Old Wives' Tales
by Bellatrixbeauty
Summary: Welcome. Have a seat. Feel free to leave at anytime. No one will stop you. But, if you stay, that's fine too. Here's a story about people, places, and rumors. Get comfortable. This may take a while. Death the Kid/OC
1. Chapter 1

**BB says: **I felt like creating a _Soul Eater _fan fiction so SHAZAM! And it is done. Well not DONE done, but this is the first chapter.

**Rating**: Teen, and will be as such throughout the entire story until I say otherwise. And I don't think I will.

**Disclaimer: **I hate writing these, so I'm only going to do it once for this story, okay? I do not own the manga/anime _Soul Eater. _All characters and likeness of the characters belong to the original author, not some girl with a little pink laptop, i.e. me.

She sat in a mass of children, students and civilians alike, beneath the warm afternoon sun. Her bottom was balanced on the edge of a fountain in Death Square, people walking past and on with their daily lives. The weather was amazing, surprisingly accommodating despite the bright summer sun laughing down at them. Clouds that were to bring rain elsewhere drifted lazily through the silky blue sky, the shadows of various birds skimming the residents below.

The woman had become persuader, a vendor peddling words and philosophy with no monetary gain to be had. She enthralled her young listeners with the promise of a long and entertaining story for it was well known that she was a gifted weaver of words and morals.

Most would say she didn't look nearly as world weary as her wisdom suggested. Her plaited hair was long and silvery grey, but her chocolate face was smooth, free of all wrinkles, her hands still soft and full. Multiple silvery earrings sat in ears that held no liver spots, no veins, a simple necklace of white gold resting upon a bosom that still held its perk and form. Round glassed perched on a squat nose and soft, full lips lifted into a smile as the crowd of youngsters settled down.

Crossing legs that went for miles and miles beneath a skirt of light fabric, she squirmed to make herself more comfortable before speaking.

"Good afternoon." Her voice was clear and pure, words traveling far despite the soft tone in which they were spoken.

"Most of you are my students, here because I told you to meet me for the answers you seek. Others are here by word of mouth. And some because you are wondering what a large group of Shibusen students are doing in the middle of the city. Well then, let me tell you; we're here for a story. A tale as deep and winding as a woodland path, with unexpected twists and pitfalls that birth the uncertainties over every hill. A simple story that, over time, is more legend than fact, a rumor passed from friend to friend with less and less truth every time it is told. 'What would she know?' you ask yourselves 'there's no way she can know the _full_ story. No one does.' Wrong. What do I know? The _facts _of course. So after this all the rumors and bilk are DEAD. I want no more questions, no more suspicion, and no more gossip concerning a subject that was before you were even _born._"

The students stopped breathing for a moment, unsure if she was serious or not in her scolding. She was very strange in that aspect, twisting her emotions to trick and mislead. She meant no harm. She liked the shock factor it brought to people's lives.

The storyteller giggled a bit, sounding the same age as her body and lightening the mood of the adolescent crowd.

"This is a tale that takes place long ago. When our dear leader was merely a boy and when the city was much, much smaller. It's long but fulfilling and satisfying, if I do say so myself. Those of you who doubt what I say are free to leave at anytime, because I will not tolerate heckling or mockery." She sent a look to a certain few from her class, those known to cause trouble. Heedless of all their own talk, they couldn't be bring themselves to keep her eye. She had put them in their place long ago, when they first questioned having such a young (or one who _appeared _to be young) teacher. But she didn't forget. She could forgive. But not forget. "There are rules of course. Don't complain; anything fun has it's hidden requirements.

First, while I will answer questions, try not to ask too many. They make me lose my train of thought. Old people like me do that a lot as is." She chuckled again. "Second, this does NOT mean there won't be a test tomorrow. It's not unfair. You've known about it all week. If you haven't studied by now, I doubt cramming tonight will help much." There was a discontented fluttering through the crowd. She didn't need more encouragement than that. "Fine. There will be a bonus question concerning this story if you all stop whining. Honestly. I spoil you.

Thirdly," her eyes twinkled mischievously "this is not to reach the ears of Lord Death under any circumstances. I'm afraid that he will employ the classic 'deny, deny, deny' response. It's the whole reason I didn't want to tell you in the classroom, because of his nasty habit of checking in on class and sticking his nose in our business. 'Ignore the rumors,' he says, 'they're only words,' he says. Bah, prickle pickle. I'm ending it now.

We should get started. Hold on to your britches and there are no potty breaks. You should've gone before." Fingers with nails painted sunset orange touched the flower behind her ear to be sure its hadn't blown away in the wind. The children squirmed anxiously.

"This, my dears, is not a fairy tale. It has a few fairy aspects, but, then again, tales of the fairy persuasion are merely spins on real life. In reality, there are no genies, no princes, no fairy godmothers to save you. Magic, much like a computer, can only do what you tell it to, and cannot protect you from yourself or the predicaments you force yourself into. It can soothe. It can assist. But never rely on it; it is a coy and destructive force. It is the factor that drives many to the grasp of madness. The first moral I want you to take is that luck favors those who help themselves. You must fight for what you want and never lose track of what pushes you to improve. No, Stephen, that doesn't mean you can be selfish. Detention for a month. I'm kidding. Don't look so scared.

There will be kissing and fighting and cussing. Don't even try to act appalled, because I've heard some of you talk about MUCH worse. Also, as fair warning to those of you fond of happy endings, the main character dies at the end.

Crap! Did I ruin it? No? Okay then. Sorry.

I want to get home to make my husband dinner, so you have to listen well to make this go faster.

There's a girl. There's a boy. And there's a dream. A wish. A struggle.

Come. You must lure the story in with your open mind. Let it convince you of the impossible, take your hand and dance with your very soul. Embrace it like you would someone precious to you. Don't let it drift away. I heard that scoff, Natsu. Just shut your mouth already before I tack you to the wall like a living, struggling poster.

Let us begin."


	2. Chapter 2

**BB says: **And the story continues. Or rather, begins. Whatever. DO NOT QUESTION ME!

"'_If I can stop one heart from breaking,_

_I shall not live in vain:_

_If I can ease one life the aching,_

_Or cool one pain,_

_Or help one fainting robin_

_Unto his nest again,_

_I shall not live in vain.'_

She smiled and closed the book, holding it gently in both hands. The sun was setting, shades of violet and rose dancing over the horizon as the yawning star made its decent. People were winding down, rushing home to awaiting families, their footsteps and voices drifting on the other side of the shop's windows.

A dry breeze spun through the door on its journey to far lands. It danced through the shelves and flickered through books left open by patrons. The smell of old paper and ink was absorbed and brought along. The busy wind, a visitor in its own right, bustled past the young woman and raised the soft curls on her head just before it left.

'Emily Dickinson,' quirked lips murmured the name of her favorite poet like a prayer, the book of the poetry still in her slackened hand. 'Always a good way to end the day.' Of course she said this about many poets and authors. She ran through works of the written arts eagerly and hungrily, every week a new novel or new author was brought to her attention. In all her young life she had read nearly every book in the little establishment, her eyesight suffering from reading in dull lightening and antisocial tendencies leading to many nights spent only in the company of literature.

But she didn't mind.

It wasn't as though she had many friends anyway.

'Are you buying today, Sigh?' the shop keeper, a man with more lines in his face than a map, smiled at the customer, who shifted shyly. 'Sorry Mr. Jenkins. I wasn't even supposed to come today. You just distract me with all these books.' She walked over to the aged counter to reclaim her bags. 'Do you think you can hold it for me? Madam will be upset if I'm late.' Under normal conditions the answer would be no. Sigh could see that the old man was struggling with his response, his own policy battling with his fondness of the fellow bookworm. 'Oh,' he said after several seconds of the struggle 'alright. But only for a week.' Sigh smile gratefully, adjusting her round glasses over her fog colored eyes. 'Thanks Mr. Jenkins. And thanks for holding my groceries.'

'No problem. Say hi to Éclair for me.' The young woman bustled out into the streets once more, nearly plowing into a neat little family. She nodded, apologized, and continued to run. Dust rose and fell in her wake, streetlights blinking on like the bulbs on a runway as she passed beneath.

She made it back into the city just as the sun completely left the sky, taking the last of its bronze rays. It took her another thirty minutes, riding the bus, to make it to a dim alley. She slipped into the back door of the burlesque house known as Forbidden Fantasy.

They may have been looking for her for a while; she was supposed to have been back an hour ago. No one in the small, modern kitchen seemed to mind her tardiness as she slipped in the door, but many of the girls who worked in the show had come to rely on their soothing peer who lived in the attic. She had come to be responsible for their maintenance; sewing costumes, applying makeup, providing advice. The fact that she was often late getting back from the market always caused a silent panic amongst the workers.

She threw the bags at the chef, Leroy, and ran from the kitchens, hoping that no one had spontaneously combusted in the wake of her absence. She had to jog down the aisle and past early arrivals on her way to the green room, smiling sheepishly as customers shot her curious looks. She hopped up the stairs hidden to the side of the stage, taking a deep breath before opening the small door at the top and slipping in.

"There she is!"

"Sigh! Did you finished my adjustments?"

"Are you going to bring us some snacks?"

"Can you re-polish my shoes? I accidentally scuffed-"

"And the sequins on my vest are peeling up!" Sigh held up a hand helplessly, overwhelmed as she looped the measuring tape around her neck. "Hold on, hold on! Tulip, I can't do the vest in the next twenty minutes so just wear the green one. It's in my room. Lily, I'll have your shoes done before you have to go on, so make sure you leave them out for me. I installed buttons for self adjustments last time, Rose. Look at the seam. Anyone who still needs to be measured and fitted for the newer outfits come here."

The greenroom was buzzing with over a dozen young women. They all wore an abundance of glitter and make up, their shapely bodies clothed in fishnet tights and the black leotards they wore beneath every costume. Asian, Caucasian, African American, Native American, all mingled together, a mist of expensive perfumes and hair sprays lingering in the air. Mirrors lined one of the walls, rimmed with large bright bulbs and draped in various forms of costume jewelry.

"Sigh! I need help with this new eye shadow! I don't know what colors to use for my costume." The makeshift stagehand nodded, adjusted her glasses out of habit, and made her way to the performer that had spoken. This girl was newest addition to the Sweetest Girls dancers, the Forbidden Fantasy's staple production.

Sigh herself was not a performer. While she did live in the building and work within its confines, it was a rare and treasured moment that she stepped onto the stage in front of all those people who came for the cheap booze and gorgeous girls. Most nights found Sigh here, in the background, making sure everything was set so the show could go on.

It wasn't that the young woman wasn't pretty enough to be onstage. On the contrary, most who saw her were immediately smitten, blatantly staring at the embarrassed and somewhat annoyed girl. It was like there was a natural magnet in her body, drawing people's support and favor without them even getting to know her.

Psyche LaBelle Éclair was as lovely as her namesake, matured curves beneath her loose clothing, thick, curly hair the color of lilacs and wide silver eyes sparkling with intelligence. Her skin was the color of smooth milk chocolate and the details on her peach shaped face all seemed perfectly sized and spaced. From the tips of her painted toes (blue, this day) to the edges of her long bulky braids the girl was much too pretty for her own good. The spell was only broken by exposure; everyone eventually grew used to the beautiful girl.

'You have to go from the corner to the outside. And make sure the darker color is the closest to your lashes; it'll make your eyes pop. Let's see how the burnt orange looks.' This place of questionable morals was home to Sigh. The older woman who owned the building, one Madam Éclair, had taken her in when she was very young, a starving little girl wandering the streets. Why the cool woman had suddenly felt her heart strings tighten, why this single urchin had meant so much, remained unknown.

Maybe, after forty years of a bitter life founded in gambling and cheats she needed more than her own nasty attitude to complete herself.

Maybe, the death of her husband and son had finally reminded her how she needed to sincerely love again.

Or maybe the girl's strangely irresistible aura was in effect even in early childhood. It really didn't matter to Sigh; she was grateful for whatever reason the woman had picked her up and given her a warm bed.

'Places! You guys go on soon. I'll be in the kitchens if you need me. I'll bring up finger sandwiches for you, Hyacinth, and anyone else who's hungry.'

Those who heard grumbled in confirmation of hunger while others worked their bodies into costumes. Some wore the bright, showy outfits for performances, others pulled on the waiting uniforms that showed just as much skin in cheaper materials.

Sigh left the greenroom, sliding along the shadows to try and remain unnoticed by the quickly filling house.

'Sigh,' Leroy had succeeded in putting away all the groceries and was now chopping lettuce on a large wooden block. Kitchen hands bustled about behind him, washing dishes, pouring drinks, and getting appetizers ready. Sigh was all set to join them, knowing that the sooner the customers were served the sooner she could get some food to the girls back stage. Many of them didn't eat before coming to work and were starved halfway through the night.

'Yeah, Roy?' Sigh pulled on an apron, smiling politely at a new worker who was gawking at her. The poor boy dropped a pot on his foot; thankfully, it was empty. 'I can't find the cilantro, the ketchup, or the onions. You forget a bag again?' The chef narrowed his hard brown eyes at his boss' daughter. He made it clear from the start that he didn't believe in special treatment for those who helped in his kitchen. Sigh was constantly made aware of this fact, sent out for the food to feed the workers when a food truck came every Friday to stock the kitchen. The chef's excuse was that it was against the kitchen code to eat food bought for customers.

'Damn it. I must have,' Sigh glanced away from the anger building in Leroy's eyes, twiddling her thumbs. 'Any chance you don't need it _now_? I mean, we're all working right now, so there's really no time to eat anyway.' A thick red brow raised in a worn looking face, his cleaver sized hands never stopping.

'Go get it.' Sigh gazed up at the man, wondering if this was one of the rare occasions he let her slip by.

It wasn't.

'Fine.' And she ran out the door again, floral gored skirt brushing her legs.

Another thirty minutes on a bus heading the opposite direction, tourists chattering incessantly about dreams and bets they planned to win big from. This was the second to last bus; she would be lucky to catch one going back into the city. Sigh pulled the string and stepped off the bus, resentfully.

It was the old man's fault, she thought with bitter humor, ducking down narrowed alleys and around dodgy people. Opening a store so close Leroy's favorite suburban grocery. How is she supposed to resisted the allure of books so close to her errands? It just wasn't possible! It just wasn't _fair_!

She huffed and nearly tripped on her oversized apron as she turned into another dirty street. Scowling, she pulled it off her head and rolled it up.

Rats parted at her approaching feet and the hiss of an alley cat sounded somewhere in the darkness. The moon's bloody smile provided little light, and the shadows seemed to twist in her peripheral vision. Sigh had confidence in herself; this was not the first time she had to make trips at night and it most certainly would not be the last. By now the shapes had failed to scare her, her imagination remaining in check despite the noise and movements that she couldn't quite place.

She didn't even jump as a trashcan was knocked over, rolling noisily to a stop behind her. She shot it a glance, the cat responsible glaring back at her with wide eyes before ducking out of sight.

'Hey! Did I leave a bag?' She caught the old book seller as he locked up for the night, his weather beaten jacket on his thin frame. 'I was going to bring it to you this time, Sigh. I know how you forget.' She smiled sweetly, pulling the bag from his gnarled knuckles. 'You shouldn't have to, Mr. Jenkins. You know your knee bothers you this late.' The old man chuckled sheepishly. 'I know, I know. I just didn't want for you to make the trip after dark. Pretty girls like you are magnets for all sorts of trouble.' Sigh giggled nervously at the compliment. Flattery made her uneasy. 'I can take care of myself. I want you to do the same, okay? Don't worry about an insensible person like me.'

'If you insist. But make sure you hurry home. I don't like you out late.' They parted ways, and the air rushed out of Sigh's lungs as she checked her watch. She had missed her bus. She would have to walk.

Leroy had serious attitude problems. He could wait the extra few minutes it took her to get back; her legs were tired from running everywhere. Admittedly, it was her own fault that she needed to rush, but that didn't take from the fact that it was an exhausting method of travel, even for someone with stamina like hers. Mr. Jenkins' shop was near the edge of the city, teetering between urban and suburban, while Forbidden Fantasy was seated barely a decameter from the epicenter of the skyscrapers.

In addition to the fact that a book shop was possibly the hardest thing to find in a place where bright lights and noise were worshiped as wrathful gods, Sigh was hard pressed to search for decent places for her personal entertainment. She felt like she worked hard and, therefore, deserved to treat herself once in awhile. It wasn't like Leroy ever told her to take a break! She was so unappreciated. She mumbled complaints to herself, picking up the pace a bit but only because she could feel the first pangs of hunger.

Her body stiffened suddenly, inexplicably. For some reason the air felt heavier, thick in a way that she wasn't used to. It crackled around her, energy flowing in waves around her prone body as her senses tried to warn her of encroaching…she shook her head. Visions like this could get her in trouble. She stifled the fuzzy warmth flooding into her system, refusing the magic that bubbled so close to the surface of who she was.

Not a witch.

Not a witch.

She. Was. Not. A witch.

But still.

Cautious eyes scanned the area, taking in the fact that she had wandered down a darkened street, still on the outskirts of the large city, her own unsteady breathing the only sound. "Hello?" Despite the intense silence, Sigh still felt eyes upon her, crawling up her body, invisible fingers brushing the back of her neck. Unnerved, she picked up the pace, just short of a run. The feeling only increased. Her own speed seemed to be taking her further into danger, but at the same time she knew stopping would be worse. Much worse.

The mouth of the alley led to bright lights, the first of the main attractions and a plethora of possible witnesses. But the shadows contacted, twisting on themselves in the same way she had been ignoring all night, parting to reveal an abused looking man…thing.

It didn't even look human anymore.

A towering figure who stood at almost seven feet, large hands the size of dinner plates and a bulging upper body. He wore faded jeans with tired looking leather chaps, his boots loosing their soles and the spurs coated in what looked suspiciously like old blood. His mouth was much too wide to be normal, piling upon itself it what looked more like a snout than anything else, and the skin of his face and hands was rough and scaly looking.

Like an alligator.

'Hey thar little lady,' his voice was a low growl, crawling over Sigh's flesh like a disease. She took an involuntary step backwards. 'Ya'll know better than ta be wanderin' all by yerself, don't cha?' Sigh didn't respond. And she suspected he wasn't expecting her to. She backed up further, wanting to flee but unwilling to turn her back on this monster. 'Ya could get attacked,' the lizard man licked his rough lips, nostrils flaring as he smelled her unease. 'Someone might,' his body coiled, Sigh's legs screamed at her to run. 'Eat'cher soul!'

Sigh wasn't a screamer. Never had been, and more than likely never would be. But in that instant, when a three hundred pound razor-toothed monster leapt at her, she came as close as she ever had to letting loose.

But she acted instead.

She bounded out of his range, caused him to land, open mouthed, in the dust. 'Come on now darlin',' he ground sand between his teeth, still grinning. 'Don't make it hard. Such a pretty lil' soul. I jus' wanna _bite.'_ He lunged forward a second time, seeking out the girl's frantic heart in the darkness of the alley.

Sigh brought her foot up, catching him under the jaw, hearing his teeth smash and crack against each other. While he was still stunned, she brought her other foot around to slam him into the ground once again. 'Stay away from me,' she hissed, stacking adrenaline to suffocate her own fear. An eerie chuckle arose from the ground. 'That type, eh? I gotta buy ya a drink first?' Sigh jumped back as he stood, opening his jacket to reveal a large wrinkled lizard wrapped about his waist.

No; Sigh adjusted her glasses.

Alligator.

It looked horribly dehydrated, outside of its usual environment, its slick brown flesh cracked and dry looking. The skin on its snout was flaking up, and its teeth were yellowed in its powerful jaws. It looked weakened, pathetic. Sigh would've been relieved his secret weapon was harmless had a pair of chillingly emotionless eyes not trained on her.

'How 'bout I make ya drink yer own blood then?' The alligator unbound itself, moving faster than Sigh had ever known the amphibious beasts to. It snapped its jaws hungrily, and Sigh fled from its powerful tail and mouth. This provided an opening for the wickedly grinning man, seizing the much smaller young woman from behind and slamming her into a brick building behind them. Her glasses went flying, plunging her into a terrifyingly blurry reality. 'Gotcha,' his breath smelled of rotten meat, black and yellow teeth inches from her skull as a large hand pressed into her windpipe. 'Got any last words, darlin?'

Sigh could barely breathe, her heart pounding as the fight or flight instinct attempted to save her life. He laughed as she struggled to pull his fingers from her throat, squeezing just enough to make the world spin. She tried to kick, but her legs were pinned by his.

'Last words?' Sigh wheezed. She really didn't want to do this. She wasn't supposed to; it was a breach of her moral code. But she would sacrifice her morals just this once if it meant saving her life. 'Okay,' she whispered, looking him in the eyes and burrowing deep into his aura.

It was disgusting, sticky almost, a hint of rot permeating the air. 'Let me down. Now.' The man's eyes widened and glazed over, a wrinkle of confusion appearing on his brow. Sigh reached out, tugging at his aura with her own. He growled like he could sense something was amiss, but he was already in the sway of her magic. 'Put me down. You don't want to hurt me; you want to let me go.' He frowned and his hand loosened slightly, his wavering aura being forced to submit by her brighter, more powerful being. 'I do?'

'Yes. You can feel how alive I am, how vibrant. Why would you take that away? Why would you hurt me?'

'Why would I…take away…' his words became slurred, hand almost completely removed. Good. And once he let her go, she would tell him to go turn himself into the police.

'Joe Ball,' a voice, deep and powerful, rang through the air.

A hail of bright bullets rained from the sky, doing away with the large gator still lurking in the shadows. 'You!' the meaty hand at Sigh's throat tightened once again, leaving her to claw at it desperately. So much for convincing him to let her go.

The man had snapped back to his senses, looking from Sigh to a shadow high on a rooftop. It was tall, intimidating, made all the more threatening by its coolly professional demeanor.

The shadow leapt into the alley, startling Joe and causing the giant to choke Sigh further. Hearing the strangled yelp his victim made, Joe yanked the gasping young woman from the wall and hefted her into the air to hang between himself and his enemy. 'Ya don't know when to quit, do ya?' he asked the new arrival. The edges of Sigh's vision were starting to blur, her back to her wannabe hero. It was such an embarrassment, felt only in the barest recesses of her mind, to be downgraded from chow to human shield.

'Chasin' me 'cross two states. Ya woulda made a fine sheriff, pretty boy.'

'Drop her.' The man in the shadows commanded, ignoring Joe's attempt at small talk. The sliding of chapped lips across slick teeth told Sigh the disgusting alligator man was smiling. 'Oh~ho? Think ya got ole Joe in a pinch, do ya? Tell ya what I'm gonna do,' he swung Sigh by her neck like a pendulum, another choked noise escaping. 'I'll let her live…fer now. But ya gotta back the fuck off. Let me off wit a warnin',' his grin widened 'sheriff.'

'No deal,' there was scorn in the response.

'Aw naw. That's awful cold of ya.' Sigh agreed with what was left of her quickly fogging mind.

'I don't negotiate with murderers.'

'Or,' there was laughter in Joe's voice 'ya think ya can take my head 'fore I take hers?' That's enough. Sigh was getting tired of them talking about her like she wasn't there. Like she was some piece of meat in a store window they both wanted.

With a heave she didn't know she still had in her, she jerked her knee up, striking the back of the arm she swung from. There was a sickening snap, Joe howling in pain and dropping her as his broken elbow swung loosely. His opponent wasted no time.

Sigh threw herself to the filthy ground, the fall of bullets coming with the speed and power of a turret gun. She grit her teeth and stayed low, hoping against hope the man had good aim and that Joe would have the decency to fall backwards and not on top of her. It would be the perfect end to a perfect night, a heavy monster man crushing her just as she thought she found salvation.

All at once, it was silent. Sigh's breathing was the only thing she could hear, leaving her to wonder if she was shell shocked.

'Liz, Patty.' The man with the guns spoke again, his tone considerably lighter but still full of authority. Sigh wasn't sure who he was talking to, but in case he was another mental patient who ate people for laughs she wanted out of this alley. And fast. 'Ummm thanks,' the young woman mumbled from the ground, crawling to look for her glasses. She forced her voice to be casual, trying to keep the shaking from her hands as she scrambled. She refused to look higher than the fuzzy stalks that must've been the man's legs, avoiding eye contact out of the fear it would encourage him to pick up where Joe had left off.

More than one pair of feet approached, leaving the struggling young woman all the more confused.

'Ugh. I almost don't wanna touch it. I can still _smell _him.'

'Ohhhh! He stinks! Stinky! Can I have this one sis? Huh?'

'No. That would give you two more than Liz, Patti.' Now that Sigh was no longer in peril, her savior appeared to have completely forgotten she was there, turning his attention to the spontaneously appearing girls instead of her. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise she thought, wincing as she touched something that was very much a trash bag.

'Fuck,' she mumbled nastily, hand running into an empty can and gaining a jagged scratch. She would've stuck it in her mouth, but considering where her hands had been, thought better of it. Forget them. She'd rather not have other people's fingers sticking up her glasses even if they did offer to help find them.

What must've been a hand appeared in front of Sigh's face. 'Are you all right?' Sigh twitched, bitter thoughts surging and waning. How dare he come now? After leaving her to wallow on the slimy, mucky floor?

'Fine.' She ignored his gesture, remaining where she was to continue to search.

'That's good to hear.' Fingers traced her neck, causing her to jump. They were cool, but not freezing. 'You'll have bruises, but other than that, you'll be fine. I don't think he broke anything.' Sigh pushed his hand away. 'I'm _fine_, thanks. No need to stay and watch me.' But he didn't leave the alley. The hand appeared again, something clenched in his fingers. Reaching forward, Sigh accepted her glasses so briskly it was almost rude, standing up as straight as she could despite the situation. 'Yes. Well…thanks for sav-' she startled once the glasses were on her nose, eyes wide as she backed away.

He stood a head taller than her, with the yellowest pupils she had ever seen in her life. His skin was the color of ivory, contrasting with hair so dark no light escaped, even to reflect. There were two white stripes on the side of his head, the center stripe wrapping around to form a ring over his eyes. He looked down at her from behind his regal nose and possessed a certain pride about his face, concealed arrogance mingling with his air of well-breeding. In one of his hands was her forgotten bag of groceries, on his face a raised eyebrow and a look of apathetic confusion. But his aura, the air surrounding him, was so powerful, so dark, it seemed to devour everything around it, latching on and recording what it touched. A part of Sigh wanted to shrink back, gaining the sudden and illogical fear that he could absorb her, trapping her for eternity within his darkness. She knew what he was immediatly.

'Reaper.' He didn't hear her, but the whisper made him seem all the more real.

Sigh backed right into one of the women he had brought with him. She jumped and gave a small outcry of surprise. They were his scythes, she realized, mentally scolding herself for not knowing sooner.

'Hey,' said the one with the darker hair, the lighter blonde giggling at Sigh's jitters. 'Calm down. You're safe now. It's alright.' Safe? Ha! It was so inappropriately used in that sentence it was laughable. If only they understood the danger they had put her in, the risk she was taking just being in the vicinity of this powerful being and his partners. Even now, as she shuttered and looked for an exit, those much too interpretive eyes of Mayan gold were reading her movements. She forced a smile to her face, attempting to avoid more suspicion.

'Y-yeah. Thanks guys. Bye!' Sigh tried to bolt, but was stopped by a powerful hand wrapping around her wrist, a ring digging into her skin. 'Actually,' those strange eyes seemed to be glowing in the dark 'if you could come with us for some questioning-' Sigh brought her hand up and into the young man's face, slamming her palm into his nose and pushing him back. Before the startled trio could gather what she has done, she had fled.

'What was that about?' the young woman with the dirty blonde hair moved to help her meister stand, her giggling sister still amused by the strange girl's behavior. 'Geez Kid. I think you're gonna have a black eye later.'

'Did you see where she went?' The tall young man with the onyx hair held a handkerchief to his nose, trying to ease the blood that was trickling out. There was irritation in his voice, whether at the girl for striking him or at himself for not dodging was hard to say. Tears of pain were gathering in his eyes and his voice had a slight nasal quality.

'No. She was obviously spooked, Kid-'

'Did you see how hard she hit him? She was like BAM!'

'-so I don't see why you have to go after her. Just let her go home and rest,' Liz continued, ignoring her sister.

'No Liz. I think it's best we know where she ran off to. We should keep track of her activities. Watch her.'

'Why are you so determined to stalk this girl? Unless…' The elder demon pistol allowed a look of mischief to appear on her face, a grin forming. 'Unless…did little Kiddy Widdy finally fall in wuuuuvvvv?' Kid felt his face twitch, a tick he had developed after bringing the two demon pistols into his home. He sincerely hoped it wasn't a sign of how his blood pressure suffered. 'No. Nothing that childish.'

'Hey! It's not-'

'She wasn't human, Liz.' Liz forgot her rant about how completely normal it was to fall in love at first sight and how Kid had totally failed to do so (outside of things with symmetrical attributes). Even the bubbly blonde in the background stopped laughing to listen to what the young meister had to say. 'I thought I felt something off when we first entered the city, but I wasn't sure. I shrugged it off. But now I'm sure of it. She isn't normal.'

'Doesn't that mean you can track her? Can't you see her soul?' Kid shook his head, eyes focused in the distance. 'It's like she using soul protect. But I can see what she is close up…it's something else.' Liz huffed through her nose. 'Well don't expect me to comb an entire city for one strange girl. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack. We could search for _years _and never see her again.' Kid didn't respond, much to his partner's vexation, his eyes still moving over the souls he _could _see. All the ones in the area seemed to be human. But, then again, that young woman's soul hadn't stood out at all when he first arrived. It wasn't until he was close enough to look at her, feel a sudden spike in the air, that he felt her magic abilities.

The rustling of plastic brought him back to attention. 'Patty! Don't dig through other people's property! That's rude!' Patty laughed a bit at her meister's outburst, pointing a nude nail in his face. 'Hey Kiddo. You're only bleeding out of one nostril!' his face gave another twitch as he barely managed to stop himself from exploding.

'W-what? N-no. I don't care. Nope. Not in the least. I really don't,' but he pressed his handkerchief to his face again, cursing at his body for not being injured in an orderly fashion while a cloud of depression sat upon his shoulders. He didn't notice Patty continue to rifle through the girl's abandoned things, but Liz watched her sister pull out an old book. It had no pictures on the cover, so the younger pistol opened it to the first page.

_To my best customer, Psyche Éclair. Enjoy!_

-_Mr. Jenkins._

Sigh stumbled blindly, aware that she was now a bright red target for the Shinigami family to aim for. She didn't care if she ran into people, if she stepped on their toes or the fact that they were giving her filthy clothes and mussed hair suspicious glances. If only she could make it home, make it back to Madame Éclair. She would know what to do. She always knew.'"

The woman paused in her story, stretching in the fading light of the grinning sun. The crowd stirred, many blinking and looking around as though freed from a trance. It had been a strange experience, almost like the narrator had literally taking them back to the moments she spoke of. They had been following the girl, unseen, untouched, the omnipresent voice of the story whispered in their ears as they watched.

They attributed it to the woman's skill. A groan rose in her audience as they realized that she was leaving. "Come on guys. I'm tired. We'll continue tomorrow. After school."

"But we wanna know what happened to Sigh! Did the reaper catch her?"

"Or did she escape with Madame Éclair?"

"And what _was _she? You said she wasn't using soul protect but the shinigami couldn't sense her!" The woman shrugged. "Like I said, wait until tomorrow. I'm getting tired, and you'll be late for dinner soon." The complaining grew louder. The storyteller ignored it, already thinking about the meat she had marinating in her kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

**BB says: **Sorry this took longer then I meant it to. I volunteered at my little brother's spring carnival and was exhausted from running around in the sun. Since I was working the cotton candy machine, the only good thing was that my friend and I stuffed our faces with sugar. And spazzed. I think my mom regrets letting me go…

"'Sigh skid though the kitchen with all the grace of a drunken circus bear, ignoring the irritated voice of Leroy behind her. She dashed down the hall and took a sharp right, left, and burst through the doors of Madam Éclair's office.

She wasn't there.

The note on the desk said that she had taken the night off because her corns were acting up. Sigh frowned at the woman's carelessness, forgetting her dilemma for a moment. Honestly. As owner of the club one would think she had more work ethic. Sometimes she felt like the brunt of the work fell to her less experienced shoulders, and they skated by on luck alone. It wasn't that Madam was a bad person or a bad leader. She was just very good at passing responsibility. And procrastinating.

Sigh forced herself into a brisk walk as she neared Madam's bedroom door. Face to face with the flaking wood and the painted name 'Madam' Sigh took a deep breath and tried to brush off her own panic. Madam hated anxiety and rebuffed Sigh for her tendency to overreact to what she considered simple problems. Sigh could recall many occasions which she was sent to the 'naughty corner' for crying over literally spilled milk. Madam despised weakness, and saw it in every tear shed by the younger woman.

'Madam,' she forced her voice to be still, although there was a very obvious current of worry deep within. The room she entered was tacky, but not horribly so, with doilies and embroidered rugs littering the area. An old costume comprised of a glittery, short dress and feathered headband was framed and immortalized on the wall, a huge dresser with locked jewelry drawers beside a closet that was almost larger than the attic Sigh called her room. The bed had golden bed covers and blood red sheets, panes of mustard yellow gossamer surrounding it in a waterfall of fabric. Behind the translucent mesh lay a snoring mound on the bed.

Sigh carefully closed the door. She knew better than to wake Madam while she was sleeping. It could wait until morning.

'What the Hell do you think you're doing? Where the fuck are my groceries?'

'Oh God! My shoes, Sigh! I go on in like two minutes!'

'I'm hungry!'

No time to worry. Sigh headed back to her duties with a stiff upper lip.

'And five, six, five, six, seven, eight!' the tune, rambunctious and riveting, echoed through the empty room, the girls on stage moved to the new choreography with well practiced bodies. The sound of dance slippers and the girls' panted counting created a rhythm with the stereo as their instructor, Mr. Pop, clapped his hands in tempo.

'And turn, and kick, and pirouette and turn and wave and…Tulip! Lighter, dearest, lighter! From the top!' It was early Sunday afternoon, Forbidden Fantasy was closed, and its girls were practicing for their next performances.

Sigh watched them from the empty audience, cleaning the floors she had neglected the night before. She hummed along with the music, dancing with her mop and swaying her hips to the beat. Her shoes, comfortable house flats, clacked softly in the wake of her graceful steps, numerous wooden bracelets clacking on her wrists.

It had been nearly two days since her encounter with the reaper, and, needless to say she hadn't forgotten it. It haunted most of her thoughts, suddenly surging to the front as she chopped potatoes or washed windows or plunged toilets. Every time she began to relax it reminded her that she had been cast out into the public eye, a blood drop on a field of snow. And she had yet to tell Madam.

She held tight to the faith that the woman would come to her rescue, as she had done in the past (when it really counted). But, at the same time, she feared what her own safety would entail for the rest of the girls. What if Madam thought it necessary to get out of town? Close her life's work and sweep Sigh away? What would the workers do?

The girls were young, some had kids, some had younger siblings, but all needed shelter. A place of income that didn't look at their pasts or their scholarly prowess. Many came to raise money out of the hope that they could someday go back to school. A few sought to recover from the damage of their early years. Sigh didn't want to be the reason these good people were turned back out into the world, the dangerous, dark streets crawling with weirdoes and murderers like the late Joe Ball. It was a bitter thought, the idea that she could be solely responsible for ruining lives.

So Sigh came to a decision, tossing in her bed the night before. She would leave before they could come for her. She figured she had about a week before the reaper was able to track her down, a few more days at least. A bus ticket was hidden under her mattress, her clothes organized in order of what to take and her savings had been cleared out. She wasn't willing to shut down the only beacon to be had for these girls, but she knew she could survive on her own. Madam would forgive her eventually. She would tell her all about it someday. Until then Sigh's main priority was staying alive

She gave a graceful spin on her toes and came to a neat stop, long hair swirling about her frame with light caresses. Her body held the end pose as her mind wandered through her escape plan. It was only when she opened her eyes that she realized the music had gone silent, Mr. Pop clapping enthusiastically.

'Ah! Hiding in the back as usual, my pretty little attic flower!' he gushed. The girls on stage giggled, looking at one another as though sharing a joke. 'Will the allusive Belladonna be gracing the stage? I wrote a dance just for you~hoo!' Sigh smiled sheepishly, looking awkward at the stage name Mr. Pop was insistent upon giving her.

'Aw, come on Mr. Pop. You know that's not for me. I'm not very good at dancing.' The effeminate man scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically as he flowed across the room with grace.

'Lies! Filthy, dirty lies! You dare question the talent you were blessed with? Pish posh. You move like a goddess in denim and cotton,' he lifter her chin, looking her in the eye. 'Imagine you, the secret jewel of the stage, in one of my works of art! Ah! The world will quake with envy and joy! Lesser men will crumble beneath you as only the strong remaining standing to give you the applause you deserve.' Sigh clucked her tongue good naturedly, pulling her hand from his gasp. 'No thank you Mr. Pop. I-'

'-bitch out at every opportunity.' Sigh's eyebrow quirked as the voiced sounded from the stage. She chose not to respond. 'Anyway, Mr. Pop, I'm afraid Belladonna retired a long time ago. A one hit wonder.' The instructor, also choosing to ignore the heckler, pouted. 'I'll get you my pretty. Just you wait!' Sigh shook her head, moving to get back to her mopping.

'Doesn't he know it's pointless,' the loud whisper came again 'she's such a snob. She thinks she's too good for us, the-'

'Gardenia, your ass is showing. It must be hard keeping it hidden when your ankles are behind your head all the time, but please,' Sigh spoke casually, dipping her mop into her bucket. She heard the high pitched laughter behind her as the woman she spoke of turned her deep brown eyes. 'Oh? You hear me way up there on your high horse?' She laughed, white teeth flashing in a face darker than Sigh's.

'It's difficult to ignore a voice so similar to that of a vulture. Tell me, are all your dates too drunk to say no when you screech in their ears?' Sigh responded smoothly. She didn't look back, but knew Gardenia was fighting the urge to frown.

'Of course this is coming from the virgin. Like any guy would want to sleep with you anyway.'

'Goodness Miss Cleared For Landing. I didn't know our differences bothered you so much.'

'Please. I'm too strong to be bothered by a worm like you. You're too scared to even look at me!'

'I'm afraid looking directly at you without drinking myself stupid will turn me to stone.'

'Go to Hell, you uppity shitface.'

'I'm beating you there. I heard bitches live forever.' She heard the woman leap off the stage as she rang out the mop, a face of pure contentment on her face. The sound of high heels pounding towards her wasn't a concern, neither was the voice of Mr. Pop commanding the angered dancer to stop as others gave chase. All that she was worried about was that sticky spot under table four.

They caught Gardenia as she made to grab a fistful of Sigh's hair. 'Bitch! Whore! You think you're better than all of us, don't you? Think you can just run over us and laugh behind our backs.' Sigh ignored her.

'C-come on Deedee,' Lily spoke from her grasp around her fellow performer's neck. 'Calm down. She didn't say any of that.' The others murmured their agreements as Gardenia continued to snarl.

'Take five ladies,' Mr. Pop seemed winded by the whole ordeal, a thin hand fanning his narrow face. His voice was slightly put off by the whole display, although he had done nothing to stop it. 'A moment to cool off with do us all some good. Sigh, love, would you bring some snacks to the greenroom?' She nodded. It wasn't until she heard the last footsteps disappear (dragging the still raging Gardenia) that she let out a breath.

Gardenia hated her. Always had. From the moment she realized that the owner had a daughter who _wasn't _asked to perform onstage, she jumped to the conclusion that it was because she was too _special_. Too _spoiled_. The pretty princess of this paper castle. And no matter what Sigh did, whatever flips and tricks she performed to make friends, Gardenia mocked and ridiculed her. She insulted everything, from Sigh's cooking (which was _good_, thank you very much) to her skills as a seamstress (_really?_ After all the adjusts Sigh made for her?).

It only took a week for frustrated Sigh to start fighting back. They had been at each other's throats ever since.

The door swung open as the young woman scrubbed at a stubborn scuff mark, brushing a loose hair behind her ear. Shoes tapped on the tiled floor as the visitor looked around.

'Sorry,' she didn't bother looking at them, pushing in a chair with her hip and straightening the candles on a table. 'We're closed for today. If you wouldn't mind coming back-'

'Are you Psyche Éclair?'

'Yeah. Wh-' her words died in her throat as she turned to look at the customer.

His eyes were bright amber in this lightening, his two demon weapons walking behind him in awe of the flashy décor. Both of his hands were in his suit pockets and he approached casually, as though trying to convince her of innocent intentions. She took a step back and he raised an eyebrow.

'Don't bolt yet. Just listen to what-'

'Back off!' Of all the things he was expecting, it was likely that he wasn't prepared for a table to come soaring his way, thrown like it weighed no more than a toy. He leapt to the side, his taller weapon shrieking as a candle flew by her head.

'Wait! We just want to-'

'You're not taking me without a fight! I'm not letting you kill me!' A chair smashed beside him, the metal contorting on impact.

'I'm not trying to kill you!' Another chair came flying. 'Will you just listen?' Sigh had backed herself into the stage, vaulting up without any hesitation. From there she could go through the greenroom, up the stairs and into her attic. There was a window that led to the alley, where she could-

'Sigh? What's wrong? Did you break somethin-' Hearing the commotion, the dancers reappeared nervously, edging from behind the stage. Their lithe bodies had rushed, heads swiveling as they sought whatever travesty Sigh had encountered. All eye eventually settled on the visitor the shadows flocked to, the stern faced young man glaring up at the panicking Sigh.

It is strange, seeing death incarnate for the first time. Few realize that it impacts everyone separately, that it is impossible to put a definite face upon the ultimate end. Death, contrary to popular belief, is not a single being, nor is it completely comprehensible by any sentient being. It is more an entity than flesh, more an idea than an entity, bending and shaping itself to everyone differently. It takes a powerful soul to gaze upon it without being taken in by the extreme surge of shock and awe wrought by reapers. Perhaps that is why older shinigami wear masks.

For some, Death is beautiful.

For some, Death is terrifying.

Various reactions played out before Sigh as she watched the young women crowding the stage.

Some adopted glazed looks, seeing the wonder that is ultimate rest. His soft, golden eyes, pitch hair with the snowy stripes and flawless porcelain flesh. A walking statue, the embodiment of perfection and sweet wonder. He was toned but not bulky, a powerful body resting on a bed of dusk and soothing black. He was lovely to them, a strange, intoxicating beauty that they found themselves unable to part with.

Some froze, their faces draining of blood at the monster lurking in the middle of the room. His yellow, demonic eyes gazed up at them with the cruel chill of a sociopath, his spindly, lanky body coiled in preparation before he lunged forward and reaped their innocent souls. His hair was coal with skeletal white lines dragged across, skin the pale color of a long dead corpse. Their fear was all consuming to an almost a painful extent.

And Sigh. A powerful soul in her ability to just see _him._ As a being instead of an abstract. She knew there was nothing to fear in death, and yet she also did not look to the event for rest. She was indifferent to the idea, accepting the fact that she could die from any number of things and yet hoping not to. A happy medium. She felt neither extreme terror or longing thinking of the reaper himself; she was more afraid of what sort of chaos he could throw her life into.

And how she would fight until the bitter end.

'Go back,' she commanded the still crowd, waving her hand at them 'this is none of your concern.'

'What,' Gardenia was shaking, forgetting their fight in favor of hiding behind the planted Sigh 'what is that?'

'Can't you see it?' Hyacinth's big blue eyes were glossed, blissful smile on her face 'it's so peaceful. So amazing.'

'Move!' Sigh didn't understand the concept of reapers at the time, the reality that followed them wherever they went. To her, the dancers were merely being stubborn and silly, ignoring her in a vital moment. 'What is wrong with you guys?'

'That's enough,' the reaper spoke to her, obviously straining to keep his voice level 'come with me. No harm will come to you.' Sigh looked back. The crowd of frozen on lookers were blocking her only way into the greenroom. She snarled and glared. 'No. Go away.' He twitched as the last strip of patience left him.

'Come with me willingly,' his weapons came forward on a silent command standing on either side of him 'or I'll drag you behind me.' Sigh's hands balled into fists as her muscles readied for battle. 'Sorry. I'm not going anywhere without a fight.' The two women flanking the reaper took their weapons forms. In the light, Sigh could see they were pistols that he carried in a most peculiar way.

She leapt out of the way as a barrage of light pellets rained, carefully aimed to avoid the dazed audience. They seemed to snap out of their respective trances in time to shriek and flee. But it was too late for Sigh to run for it. She had fallen, miscalculating her dodge and tripping over the edge of the stage. She wasn't injured, but felt a bullet skim her arm, warm and pulsating, as she got jerked back to her feet. It did no damage to the stage behind her.

She bounded over and under tables, listening to the sound of deadly hail falling as she approached the reaper. She twisted her body midair, coming to land five meters from him. Another shot caught the edge of her shoulder, a direct shock hitting her soul's wavelength. She cringed but refused to fall, lifting the old platter she used for dirty dishes as a make shift shield. Glasses crashed to the floor, bullets glancing her protection without harming her. She tossed the silver tableware like a discus, catching the top of the reaper's arm and throwing off his aim. The bullet meant for her hit the curtain were Gardenia was hiding, fortunately not hitting the performer.

This was enough to make the reaper hesitate, giving Sigh an opening. She tackled him like she had seen Madam's favorite rugby player do, pinning his arms beneath her legs and smashing the back of his skull to the ground with the palm of her hand.

The dark young man looked up at this strange woman with a mixture of fascination and alarm, her strange soul so close he could see every illuminating detail. The auras of his weapons -pink, although one was more electric than the other- jolted in alarm at their meister's predicament, but they didn't change back. She could almost feel the faith they had in him.

Sigh made eye contact and gave a little sigh of relief. It was over.

'Leave me alone,' she commanded 'I am leaving here, but not with you. You will turn around, walk out those doors, and never search for me.' The young reaper's eyes widened. He was much more difficult to persuade than Joe had been. Sigh could see his aura, as thick and intimidating as ever, thrashing against her binds with a force she had never felt before. It was like trying to grasp a greasy snake; it kept slithering in her grip, impossible to keep in a firm hold. She took this as a challenge. 'Leave! You will leave!' He grit his teeth, fighting her like he could feel her trying to control him.

'No,' he snapped 'I will not!'

'Psyche! Get off that boy immediately!' A voice, sharp and crisp, cut through the air, startling the room. Those on the stage spun their heads so fast their necks cracked, Sigh looking up from her captive with apprehension.

She was a tall woman, intimidating and thin with wiry grey hair in a frizzy halo. Acute, intelligent brown eyes peered out from the valleys of wrinkles, gnarled hands on thin hips in agitation. The thin pink mouth sneered as she glared at her ward and every other person in the room, her discontent tangible and frightening.

She looked very old. And very strong.

'What the Hell is going on here? Is it really so hard for you to behave without me looking over your shoulder?' Sigh sprang up like she had been stung, straightening her clothes and hair. The reaper followed, gazing at the new arrival with curiosity. 'And you!' He jumped as the woman pointed a manicured nail at him, his weapons changing out of their pistol forms to stand beside him.

'How dare you come in here and cause a mess? The fuck is wrong with you? Raised in a barn? Were your parents pigs? Honestly. This is the true degradation of principle and diplomacy this generation faces! I pity the future!' The reaper made to speak, but she silenced him. 'Shut up! I'll get to you.' He obeyed. One could not say no to Madam Éclair.

The woman stalked forward, slippers scuffing the floor as she approached the cringing Sigh. 'What's with you? And if you say nothing so help me Lord I'll make you scrub the gutters with your toothbrush!' Sigh nodded and swallowed, looking at the ground.

'He,' she referred to the young man watching them with great interest 'is a reaper, Madam.'

'I can _see _that, Sigh.' Of course she could.

'And he knows what I am. He saw me a couple nights ago and wants to take me away.' Madam narrowed her eyes further, screwed up mouth tightening at the corners. Her eyes darted to the boy shinigami and back again.

'Is that so? What's your name boy? What do you want with my daughter?' The reaper's brow lowered in remembrance of his frustration with the whole situation. 'My name is Death the Kid,' he seemed to hesitate before continuing. 'I want to take her back to Death City. To my father, Lord Death, for evaluation.' Sigh cringed and hissed, earning a glare from Madam.

'And why is that?'

'Because I can't figure out her soul.' Kid decided it was safe to approach the scary older woman and her growling daughter. 'I want to know what she is, and if her underlying hostility is a threat.'

'Hostile? _I'm _hostile?' Sigh snarled angrily, eyes dangerous behind her askew glasses. Kid narrowed his eyes. 'As a witch, you're naturally-'

'Shut your mouth! You don't know me! I'm not a witch!'

'Well you're certainly not human! I can see your soul and-'

'Read it like a dumbass! I would know if I was a-' Madam's look could kill.

'Shut the fuck up! Psyche, he let you speak and you will grant him the same courtesy!' She turned to the frowning shinigami. 'We have things to discuss, I suppose. The rest of you,' Sigh startled. She had forgotten about the crowd on stage. 'Go home. You'll all receive pay for today, so don't worry.' They were still a moment longer before slowly disbanding, granting Sigh, Madam, and the newly named Death the Kid wide girth as they went towards the door.

'Told ya she wasn't normal,' Sigh heard Gardenia stage whisper. The bespectacled young woman averted her eyes as suspicious looks bombarded her.

'We can talk in my office,' Madam turned and walked away. 'It'll be private there.' Sigh gasped. 'B-but Madam! You can't actually consider-'

'Enough Psyche! Come along.' The young woman followed, all too aware of Death lurking in her shadow.'"


	4. Chapter 4

**BB says: **I want a milk shake. Yup. Chocolate.

**Rating: **Teen. Mainly for cursing, now that I think about it…

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the manga/anime _Soul Eater_. And although I did end up buying the aforementioned milkshake, I have no intention of flaunting it outside my previous claim of having bought it.

"Madame scorned Sigh's nervous habit of picking at her nails.

Not biting.

Picking.

Pressing against her nail beds with pointy objects so that the dull pinprick of pain would distract her mind from her own anxiety. Wheedling between the nail and her flesh in a swift, slicing motion. She knew the exact pressure for the right amount of discomfort without breaking the skin, just enough to redden the tips of her fingers and keep her alert.

Madame often said that such a habit was disgusting. Something used as torture by barbarians.

Sigh would shrug and continue to do so when the older woman turned her back.

At this moment in time, her habit reasserting itself as proof of her current distress, the girl stood behind her adopted mother in the woman's office, watching the reaper who sat on the other side of the desk. He was sitting with his chin up and his ankle crossed over his knee, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before Sigh looked away. She picked harder, hands folded behind her back so that Madame wouldn't turn and catch her running the tips of her nails beneath each other.

The office was the victim of casual upkeep that it only occasionally underwent. The file drawers were open and rusting, papers on each of the girls hanging out for the world to see; the wallpaper was faded baby blue with a large scorch mark poorly hidden behind the nearly barren bookshelf; the desk, khaki brown and metallic, held tacky magnets in the shapes of animals and baskets of fruit, an ancient photo of Madame and Sigh hanging on by its corner. The flat chested, stout girl in the picture couldn't have been more than twelve as she stood by her considerably fatter guardian.

The older woman leaned back in a cracked leather chair, hands folded over a long gone belly as thin lips pursed in agitation. The air was silent and heavy, elderly eyes that had yet to lose their spark regarded the young man gazing back with matched intensity. The newly dubbed Death the Kid didn't even twitch in light of the intrusive glare, arms folded over his chest and the two blondes flanking him fidgeting in the tense atmosphere.

After an excruciating three minutes, twenty-three seconds (Sigh had taken to counting before the boy would crack) something in the air wavered, Madame lifting a gnarled hand from her body to reveal a pack of cigarettes.

'Ciggy?' her voice was low, focused, much too serious for such a light question. This offer would set the mood for the rest of the discussion, Madame testing the waters ahead. If the reaper were to accept, light up the rolled tobacco with the woman, it would provide a relaxed, almost welcoming feel to the room. The stress would melt in the wake of a common hobby, an activity that could unite the debaters before the battle was under full swing.

The cigarette dangled like a broken limb between manicured digits.

'No thank you,' a would be smile flitted across the young man's face for a moment before he sunk back into his serious demeanor. 'Those things will be the death of you.' Madam scoffed a laugh before retracting her hand, sitting up straighter in her chair to light the tobacco stick.

She exhaled a long stream of smoke before her lips quirked into a humorless snarl. 'I knew this day would come. Someone would show up clean, pressed, tidy and trim, thinking they can just waltz in after brandishing a badge,' she gestured vaguely with her cigarette hand, referring to Kid 'or blood, as the case may be.'

The woman took another drag, burning down to the filter and reaching for another. Death the Kid was silent, knowing that she wasn't quite done with her statement despite the distance in her eyes.

'But you see,' the cigarette was between her clenched teeth 'you can't just kidnap someone because of their soul. I think everyone knows she ain't normal. Sixth sense, or whatever. But if you try and take her without a valid reason I may get upset. Boy.' Whether Kid's frown was due to her patronizing reference or her implication that he was attempting a crime wasn't clear. 'I'm not kidnapping-'

'Taking someone against their will? I guess you could call it snatching, if you wanted.' The old woman checked her nails 'not as catchy though.'

Kid had to struggle to maintain his indifferent façade, temper stirred by her taunts. 'You should know, as her guardian, what she could become if left alone. If there's even the slightest chance her soul could evolve into something dangerous-'

'Is this an inopportune time to point out that I'm way past the point where magic can affect me?' Sigh offered the conversation her thoughts. Madame ignored her, still looking at the guest across from her. Sigh persevered, although she was a little put off by the woman's lack of support and the invasive eyes of the reaper as they darted to her when she spoke.

The still optimistic side of Sigh was satisfied that he wasn't infatuated with her -it would've made the situation that much harder, that much stranger- but she was nevertheless jittery under the piercing stare. His eyes dilated slightly when he looked at her, raking over her soul in an attempt to sift through the finer details. It should be considered rude to ogle a part of her so casually.

'My soul is way beyond the point of manipulation and is done forming by now. If I were destined to become something else I would be it instead of who I am.' Sigh frowned, deep in thought and rambling. 'I think I should get a say in this. It's my life, after all, and society no longer relies on the dealings of parents and men to determine the fate of young women. I mean, this would all go much easier if-'

'Psyche,' Madame's voice was low but Sigh stumbled to a stop. 'Would you go get our guests some tea? I'm sure they're thirsty after wandering all day.' Sigh's eyes narrowed, her hands stilling as she realized the implication behind Madam's words. 'What? You can't just-'

'Tea, Psyche.' The young woman was cornered between her pride and her extreme respect for the older woman's decisions.

Madam understood that Sigh hated feeling helpless and cast aside. She couldn't help the need to act in protection of the younger woman, doing so with such efficiency that Psyche had come to rely on it unconsciously. If the girl were ever to realize just how much she truly depended on Madame it would break her stride in two.

The former flapper had become a source of relief and trepidation for her ward, defending and attacking with deft strokes that formed the stiff, stubborn girl that stood by her side today. A powerful daughter that any mother would be proud to have, no matter how rough and introverted the girl had become.

It had been Madame's fear that she would corrupt the soul of the child when she swept her away into a world of gambling and violence. She was certain she had somehow condemned the girl with her attempt to save her. No longer on the streets but cast into the shadows to face the lecherous clutches of demons in disguise. She'd laid world weary eyes on the girl's back from the start, prepared for the worst to manifest itself in the stiff backed, half blind, street urchin.

Though the young Psyche was surrounded by all the corruption, sex and murder this world had to offer, she wasn't half as fucked up as Madame thought she would be. Hell, she couldn't even get the girl to put down her books long enough to shake her tits on stage.

Not that she wanted her to. No parent wants that for their child.

But Madame thought she would've had to fight the girl on the issue. She had been all too ready for battle when she confronted the girl on zealous amounts of makeup and dating dirt bags. She even expected that the girl would have a kid by now and a baby daddy running around with some bimbo on the side. But her ground rules on dating, blind fornication, and acting a fool were met with sarcastic submission; like Psyche was insulted the older women would even assume such behavior was tempting to her.

Madame supposed that nature had won out over nurture in this way. A weight that she didn't know she was carrying lifted from her shoulders, placed there when she heard about some crack head shot in a drive-by.

Stephen. God rest her baby boy's soul. Despite her own somewhat atheist beliefs, Madame believed Psyche had been sent as a form of redemption. That she was meant to raise this girl and do it right, damn it, for both their sakes. But that time was over now, the girl was raised and formed, much past the age where most leave the nest.

How would the young woman fair if the older woman was struck dead at this very moment? How would she cope? Had Madame truly taught her everything, given her all that she would need to survive in this cold world? Perhaps this boy offered the sort of push needed for the girl to spread her wings and fly from this deteriorating perch, discover her own limits while Madame was still around to pick up the pieces as necessary. Leave the girl with enough strength to face what was to come next in her young life, whether she was ready for it or not.

As much as she hated to admit it, Madame Éclair was not getting any younger. And age meant death.

Funny. Thinking that while looking at an incarnation of the great sleep with such passivity.

Madame didn't fear death. Madame didn't love it. She accepted it. Just as she had taught her daughter to do. But just as any mother, she would forever fret for her child.

Human or not.

Madame exhaled smoke. 'I knew this day would come,' she repeated it to herself like a mantra, admiring the fact the reaper had yet to fidget under her trademark glare.

'No!' Sigh forgot professionalism in the wake of her upset. Madam was pushing her aside, moving in to take the bullet when she was _so sure _she could handle this one alone. 'You can't just banish me! This is _my _life and I-'

'Dumb bitch! Go!' Sigh jumped at the sudden fury in the woman's voice, eyes a melted mercury as offense blurred her vision. The heavy press of an irritated aura invaded her senses, overpowering her with the familiar and forceful spirit of Madame Éclair. As usual, it was not so much the woman's abrasive words that stirred Sigh into motion, but the sheer force of her radiating essence crushing her own into submission. She couldn't say no, couldn't resist; it was long ingrained in her psyche to obey.

'Yes. Madame,' poison and sugar, to make the agreement facsimile sweet as it slid from sneering lips.

Sigh made sure to slam the door behind her, furious satisfaction flaring up her limbs when she heard a picture smash to the floor.

The effect of her anger was ruined, however, when she found her loose fit shirt very obviously caught in the door. Going back after such an exit would've damaged her pride in the worst way, making her fury null and void in the eyes of those who lurked just beyond the wood portal. And yet she couldn't very well take her shirt off in the middle of the hall.

She resorted to pulling the fabric from it's trap bit by pain-staking bit, all too aware that the conversation on the other side of the frame had yet to continue. Her embarrassed mind was convinced they had noticed her plight and were too busy wondering how she would get free to continue deciding on her fate.

A factor that, despite her somewhat humorous predicament, was pissing her off.

Sigh's shirt finally submitted with a very audible rip, a yelp escaping as she landed on her bottom. The weight of eyes on the other side of the door crashed into her, a hysterical giggle drifting free. Sigh scrambled to her feet and stomped to the kitchens.

Her face was a firm scowl as she waited for the pot on the stove to scream into the empty room; Leroy and his fellow kitchen hands had Sundays off. She threw the silver set angrily, her teeth grinding as though the tea leaves she clutched in her hand were between them. It was one of Madame's personal sets, an expensive Georgian style silver with hand crafted rosettes protruding from the sides of the dishes and pot. The cups were inlaid with silver webbing, their handles and bodies the daintiest of porcelain. The set was only to be used when Madame was with fellow 'businessmen' or enjoying relaxing refreshment in her room.

How dare she? How could she? Did she still believe that Sigh was that shaking girl overcome by shyness and clumsy limbs, being picked on by the other children? Psyche Éclair was _not _a child! It was hard to think that she had trusted Madame with such a thing, hoping she would be included in the decision making. She had thought (before her simple solution of fleeing) that Madame would present an answer that both could agree to, one that Sigh would be able to discuss with her before eventually succumbing to a compromise.

But _this_. Shoving her to the side while the grown ups talked it out…the boy reaper couldn't have been any older than her! Hey! It was like saying that Sigh wasn't mature enough!

The hot water she poured into the pot was no match for her temper, shaking fingers nearly tipping the tiny colander and spilling the leaves in the tea. She almost cleaved the chopping board in half as she prepared the finger sandwiches, and was certain the milk would curdle in fear as she placed it on the tray.

The profanities that spilled forth as she made her way back were those worthy of the Forbidden Fantasy's owner.

'It's settled then,' she heard Madame proclaim as she opened the door. The fact that the office was a disaster -desk overturned, scratches on the walls, chairs smashed. The two blondes were in weapon form, their meister standing at the ready- was no surprise to Sigh. Madame's negotiations almost always ended in physical altercation, the grey haired time-bomb victorious in more ways than one. The woman herself stood as tall as ever inhaling a new cigarette as the reaper was left to wonder at her passive demeanor. Had they not just been in the middle of a rather vicious fight?

'What's settled? The fact that I now have to clean this mess?' Sigh snapped, lip twitching. She was just about ready to scream out the profanities she had muttered previously. Madame raised an eyebrow.

'You're going home with this boy, Psyche.'

The girl dropped the tray, burning her legs."

The storyteller took a sip of her water, cracking her back before continuing.

"Psyche was allowed three days to get her things together and say her goodbyes, Death the Kid returning back to Death City only after being repeatedly assured that Sigh would soon arrive. The girl spent her final days moping and seething, a fierce boulder of betrayal lying on her chest. The only conversation to be had with Madame or anyone else was vicious and filled with venom.

She screamed and fought, gnashing her teeth and flinging her arms. But the older woman remained unmoved.

'I'll run away!'

'No, you won't. And that's exactly why you're going.' No matter what the younger woman did, what she hissed and how she howled, Madame Éclair remained unruffled. Her voice was neutral, infuriatingly so, her actions noticeably subdued in light of her daughter's impending departure. Had she been taking note, paying attention to the older woman instead of condemning her for the betrayal of Brutus, perhaps Sigh would have noticed this change in her guardian. She would've seen how much it hurt Madame to watch her go.

But instead she was selfish and mean, vowing never to speak to her surrogate mother again in light of her crimes.

Anaise Éclair was forced to wave goodbye to her daughter's cold shoulder at the train station.

Death the Kid was there to greet the scowling young woman as she arrived, her only response a glare sharpened to steel points. She refused his offer to carry her two bags, brushing past him with a breath of winter before realizing that she didn't know where he wished to take her.

Or, for that matter, where she was to live. How she was to provide for herself. What his intentions were. None of that mattered, really. She considered her life over the second he 'saved' her.

A blonde blur shocked her from her morbid reverie.

'Hi~ya! You're pretty!' It was one of the reaping boy's weapons, the shorter of the two. Sigh nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden appearance, the two standing close enough to kiss as the blonde grinned happily.

The usual awkwardness followed the weapon's compliment, Sigh's face heating up with the sudden desire to hide from the world. 'Oh? Thank you.' The weapon grinned wider, taking Sigh's forced gratitude as an invitation to grab onto her arm with a hysterical cackle.

'I'm Patty! And that's Kid, my big sister Liz, and the funny man selling the tickets!' Said funny man shot a glare at the girl; they must've had an unfortunate history.

'Oh. Okay. I'm-'

'Sky!'

'No. My name is Sigh.' Another giggle. There was something about this pistol, so light and carefree, it made Sigh feel a little bit better about her predicament. Although she was walking an unwanted path, towards a destiny that most assuredly ended in disaster, at least her escort was friendly. Frighteningly so.

'Patty! You're scaring her worse!' The taller weapon, Liz, attempted to pry her sister from the bespectacled girl. The three stumbled a bit as Patty refused to release her victim and Liz refused to surrender. The whole scenario was rather awkward and Sigh barely stifled an amused exclamation at the younger sister's put out expression. They must've looked like old girlfriends out for a day together, clinging to each other like they'd known each other for years instead of brief takes in time.

Death the Kid watched with guarded eyes. He had told his weapons to put the girl at ease, welcome her in order to ensure her compliance, but it appeared that his precautions were unnecessary. She seemed to have come to terms with any danger that his father's city presented her with, a bitter resignation written across her firmly set face. This girl wasn't going to run -she didn't look like the type to simply turn tail without getting a word in- although her movements spoke of extreme discomfort with the whole situation.

The young reaper watched as Patty nearly toppled her sister and their new 'friend' with a harsh tug in the wrong direction. The girl yanked back reflexively and the trio actually did fall this time, the two pistols landing on top of Miss Éclair with a mixture of shrieks and giggles. Kid sighed, wondering just how strong his discovery was.

'So you're the little lady who caused my son so much trouble?' Sigh was stiff in the presence of Death, suddenly feeling naked without the bags she'd left at the entrance to his office. She'd heard many times that death had no image, no true form, but the being in front of her was…well…

She wasn't quite sure. He had no body to speak of, no eyes glowing behind that great white mask of his, his entire bottom half appearing to be a squiggly spring upon which he bounced. A bubbly, goofy voice erupted from nonexistent lips that she could feel curling into a smile from the moment she walked into the room. He'd offered her tea, coffee, cake, but it was all she could do to shake her head in polite refusal. Her limbs trembled in fear.

Oh.

Oh.

Sigh had thought his aura would be similar to that of his son but not quite to this extent. She now saw why Death the Kid was still just that; a _child _in comparison to the great power that now stood before her. She had to fight not to stumble when she entered, every step a battle to remain standing as she made her way towards the overpowering, all embracing sensation of the reaper. While his son was dark and suffocating, Lord Death held an presence that spoke more of depth than density, easily penetrated but nearly impossible to escape.

The girl physically recoiled at the sensation of her aura prodding the larger one in curiosity, earning an odd look from the red headed man standing to the side. His eyes grew wide as she approached, a furious blush crossing his face. It wasn't his fault, she knew, he had simply fallen victim to her siren-like nature. He would become used to her overtime.

'Come on, come on. Let me get a good look at you.' The elder reaper seemed oblivious to Sigh's plight, beckoning her closer with a comically large white hand. She fought the urge to shake her head childishly. Her knees knocked together behind her skirt, eyes focusing on a point over the reaper's shoulder.

Lord Death tilted his entire upper body to the side thoughtfully as he inspected his quaking visitor. Her frizzy purple hair pulled out of her face in a messy bun; round glasses sitting askew on her nose; her bottom lip sucked between her teeth and her fingers twitching against each other. There were leather thongs between her painted green toes and her dark skin held hints of an even darker tan forming.

Sigh tried her best to turn invisible.

After a tense silence, Death spoke again, only a brief hint of solemnity in his voice.

'Pardon me, Miss Éclair, but I believe that it's morally wrong for you to have such a spell in effect.' Sigh's temper flared in spite of her fear, eyes snapping to the mask on top of the black mound. Did he…? Damn it.

'Spell? I can't do magic.'

'Ah,' the reaper pressed one large finger to the jaw of his mask 'and yet you have such a powerful incantation placed upon yourself. How one could've accomplished that without knowing magic is pretty amazing.' His tone never grew heavy, but Sigh's fury only increased at his incredulity at her statement.

'I'm not a witch, if that's what you're implying. I don't know magic, I don't do magic, and I have yet to find a familiar. I'm not a witch, as I've told your idiot boy _repeatedly._' The boy in question twitched from his position on the sidelines, Patty laughing out loud and Liz smirking softly. 'So if I could go home now-'

'I see. So you're truly unaware?' Sigh blinked at the disruption in her rant, lips pursing as she remembered who she was berating. The reaper continued in her silence.

'I suppose that makes sense. You don't appear to be the sort of person to consider such a spell beneficial. It's more of a curse for someone like you, isn't it?' Sigh blinked again at the swirl of trepidation and anxiety in her gut. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'And so it can't be helped. If it's all right with you, Miss Éclair, I would like you to remain in Death City for the time being. And yes, it is for observation. I wouldn't want you to think I'm misleading you.' Sigh narrowed her eyes, hands balling into fists as Lord Death offered her a piece of paper. 'Here's the address to your new apartment. Two bedrooms, great view of the city, and walls just insulated enough that you can't hear the crazies next door. You'll find I've taken the liberty of paying the first month's rent, so just settle in as best you can, alright?' Sigh took the paper after a moment of hesitation, pulling it from the oversized fingers.

'And after a month?' she ground out, eyes narrowed in helpless indignation. The reaper tilted to the side once again and Sigh couldn't help the feeling that he did it in mockery. 'Oh? Is that it? All you have to say? I thought you would present more of a fight. The girl Kid spoke of would've jumped at my throat by now.' Sigh hissed between her teeth, as the reaper chuckled a bit.

He was avoiding the question, while answering in the same breath. The fact that he didn't find it necessary to come out and say it directly meant that he believed the girl would figure it out herself.

But the answers she had come up with to her own question may not have been the ones he thought she should have, and it could result in a moment of confusion on both their parts. While Sigh believed he expected her to pay her own rent in a month's time, he could actually be intending to send her home, or even move her into a new apartment. The young woman couldn't be sure and it was driving her mad.

She turned her back on the reaper, fighting the tingle of anxiety that ran up her spine at the action. 'Forget it. I'll figure it out.'

'My number's at the bottom if you need me!' His friendly response followed her out the door."


	5. Chapter 5

**BB says: **Oh noes! The Space Jellyfish are here to take me back to my home planet!

**Rating: **Teen

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any part of the manga/anime _Soul Eater._

"Many people say that when you speak of someone behind their backs, no matter where they are or what activity they're engaged in, they'll feel the sudden urge to sneeze. Some even believe that a tingling ear is the product of idle gossip, signifying the waggling of tongues. These so called myths were created to try and nip rumors before they started and are usually proposed in a joking manner. Upon sneezing three times in repetition -a lot but not too many- one may be teased that someone is talking about them, and it their ears happen to be itching at the time it is added to the proof.

'You two go on without me,' Kid turned to make his way back up the steps of Shibusen, all too willing to allow the ornery Psyche Éclair to wander the city alone. It really wasn't his issue at this point, his only goal was to put her someplace under observation and now that she was in his father's city that mission was over. What she did now, as long as it was under Death's watchful eye, was none of his business.

'Where're you going?'

'I need to talk to my father.'

The sniffles and irritation Sigh felt the moment Death the Kid confronted his father could be attributed to nothing other than legend.

'What did you mean by spell?' Always one to get right to the issue, Kid spoke up the instant his Italian leather shoes made contact with the Death Room. He stood in stark contrast to the bright, chipper room, little wispy clouds in the faux sky above and the ground a blank, but not dour, brown. The room had a light all its own, no sun roof or electric lights to breach the ongoing blue above. It looked as though a great chunk of the Nevada desert had been lifted up and placed in the middle of the school.

Kid's usual attire of white on black on more white made him appear to be in conjunction with the cross like objects littering the room, surrounding the platform on which the lord of death stood. The older reaper stood alone at his mirror, turning to his son when he spoke. The Death Scythe had disappeared, most likely to greet his daughter, Maka, back from a mission.

'Ah? Kid! You look as cute as ever! Even though one of your stripes is now a ring, I still find you incredibly adorable!' The young reaper twitched at his father's gushing stream of love, pushing aside the familiar nausea that arose whenever someone talked about his hair. Not now, he told the fit his muscles were thrown into, let me get _something _done before my breakdown. He assured himself that comfort was to be had back at his symmetrical home, where his two weapons were waiting.

If they weren't out burning up his credit cards.

'I am not cute Father,' he said evenly, inviting himself further into the room. The mirror behind his father quickly went blank, causing curiosity to rise in Kid's chest. 'You're right! You're older now, so you're _handsome!' _Kid sighed.'What did you mean when you asked Miss Éclair to remove her spell? What were you referring to?'

Lord Death bobbed for a moment, a quirk meaning he was looking for the right words. Deeming his son worthy of a truthful response, he spoke. 'It's magic that I thought to be long lost. It would appear our Miss Éclair has more talent then she is aware of. Or that she would like to share.'

Kid was silent, encouraging his father to continue.

'Because this magic is so old, so neglected, it is considered legend to most. Either you _can_ do it, or you can't; it's not something that can be learned in classes or by watching someone else. There hasn't been someone who has to ability to do it, to my knowledge, for centuries. I am curious as to how Miss Éclair obtained such a thing, if not through the normal means, and how she's kept it under control for all these years.'

'Under control?'

'The spell is known as Allure. It adjusts the user's appearance so that they are attractive to whomever gazes upon them. Everyone sees something different, it all depends on what they look for in, as this case presents, a young woman. While it varies due to sexuality and tastes, the overall effect remains the same.

If used correctly, Allure makes the victim, for lack of a better term, fall in love with the user. Of course the user is then free to do as they wish in that time, so usually their opponent dies before it's all said and done. It is a very difficult enchantment for the simple fact that it is so tiring for the caster; it steadily drains energy the longer it is in use because magic is constantly at work. I never thought I'd see it again, much less cast so perfectly with the bearer facing no noticeable fatigue. I can see why you brought her to me.' Kid chose not to point out the fact he had no idea the young woman was in possession of such magic, and had only brought her so that his father would explain her odd soul.

'So she's just a good witch then? Like Kim or Angela?' _Soul, _Kid sent his father silent messages, hoping to probe the elder into explaining the girl's odd presence.

_Tell me about her soul._

Lord Death bounced a bit, impervious to Kid's attempts at telepathy. 'It appears that way, doesn't it? But things are not always as they appear, as I'm sure you've learned.' Kid twitched. The silly was coming back into Lord Death's voice, meaning he was about to stop giving straight answers.

'So you think you know what she is? Can you tell me?' A large white hand unrolled, shaking a finger in Kid's face. 'All in due time, all in due time. Now run along, Kid. There's a staff meeting today and I need to prepare.' The reaper turned back to his mirror, dismissing his son.

'Father. Is there a cure?'

'Hm?' Already the Shinigami had become distracted by Sid on the other side of the mirror. The zombie appeared to be sitting in the boy's bathroom with a cup of green tea in his hand. While this was odd and completely unprofessional, Kid chose to let it slide.

'If she were to lose control, expand her powers, is there a cure that can be massed produced for the public?' Lord Death chuckled.

'Afraid not. There are no cures to be had, only means of resisting.'

'And those would be…?' Honestly. It was like pulling teeth at this point.

'First,' one large white finger 'is Exposure. The longer Allure is used on a person, the less it effects them. Second and much more traditional,' another finger, the reaper granting his son a sign of peace 'is True Love. If one has found their one true love already, the weight of Allure is lifted by leaps and bounds.' When Lord Death turned back to his mirror, Death the Kid knew to leave.

His father had only given him half the story, of this Kid was sure. Perhaps he wanted his son to figure it out himself. Or maybe this was just his way of joking around. Regardless, the youthful shinigami wanted more answers, and if he couldn't get them from the Grim Reaper then he hoped to find them in the DWMA's massive library.

He knew there had been something unnatural about the pull the young woman possessed, something not quite right about the glances that drifted towards her as she walked down the street. Even he had been drawn in on that dark night in the alley, when she looked up at him and he noticed, to his great horror, that the young woman had a mole under only one eye. And she wore her glasses slightly crooked, she had two more bracelets on one arm than the other, a ring on only one toe (not the middle either), only _one _eyebrow raised at him…it totally threw off the symmetry of her body, destroyed the beauty that she could've been. And she _still_ lurked in his thoughts.

It was like the old woman had said back in that dingy office. There was something beneath the surface of this girl that wasn't normal, wasn't _human_. A pulsating throng of power that was completely undetectable save by one's instincts and Kid's superior senses.

But if the girl wasn't a witch, then what could she possibly be? What creature could sling magic so freely without feeling the aftereffects or the fatigue? If such a feat were possible for the young woman then more aggressive spells could also be available to her, a nightmare for all of humanity should she chose to use her talents for ill. A being that could not only use magic, but never tired of it. Her powers could increase exponentially, the underlying lust for destruction blossoming as the magic pushed against the surface of her skin.

The reaper once again assured himself that bringing her to Death City was the right thing to do. All that was left was to keep an eye on her and hope her soul wouldn't mutate any further.

Kid was not concerned with how 'Allure' may affect him. Save for the brief moment in alley, h was growing accustomed to the other worldly beauty (which had now been explained) that radiated from Miss Éclair's skin. As he thought back to her, how horribly unkempt and unsymmetrical she was, he wondered, spell or not, how she had ever seemed beautiful. What about her was attractive in the first place? The foul language, the aggressive nature, the sharp eyes of a shrew? He was certain that he was over her, that Allure had lost it's effect early because of his natural resistance as a shinigami.

His father had given him a talk when he was younger, similar to that of the birds and the bees of reapers, explaining the mating habits of his kind.

The older reaper had used _puppets._

(When a mommy reaper and a daddy reaper love each other _very _much…)

Ugh.

But more to the point. As a grim reaper he would soon discover his true partner, the person upon which he would imprint, whether he wanted to or not. He would be drawn to this woman, his father explained, for no reason other than the reaction of his instincts. His body would naturally seek out the one most compatible to his personality, physique, and intelligence, leading him to her like a needle to north. The urge to defend and embrace would be ever present, she would fill every bit of who he was in complete domination of his heart and soul.

And he would _like _it.

But that had yet to happen. It could occur at any point in a reaper's lifetime, and Kid personally hoped it would be a long ways off. Such distractions would not only take away from his missions but also from his never ending quest to provide balance in the world. What if he imprinted on someone with mismatched eyes? One ear bigger than the other? With a gold tooth on only one side of their mouth? He shuddered at the thought. The longer he had to wait the better.

He recalled the younger version of himself had once been absolutely convinced that Maka Albarn was the one. With her intense green eyes and _two _pigtails and sincere, sweet smiles. His eyes followed her across the room and through missions as he found excuses to be paired with her again and again. The gentle, consistent hum of her soul as it synchronized with his was hypnotic in its appeal, speaking of a reliable person with an affinity for tact and underlying strength. He had been the truest definition of lovesick, excited when she entered the room, depressed when he didn't see her everyday. He wondered what being with her would be like, having that powerful little woman all for himself. Would it be so odd to propose at fifteen?

But then one day he'd looked up. And didn't love her anymore.

The spark that had attracted him so forcefully had been snuffed, his crush completely vanishing overnight.

Not that she wasn't still a jaw dropping combination of looks and strength -on the contrary, her power and prettiness only improved with time- but it was like he was being pushed away from her, an invisible line keeping them as the comrades they'd always been. His instincts had led him to the most likely candidate of all his acquaintances, only to miscalculate in some way or another and draw him in another direction. It was barely two days after his epiphany that Maka announced the fact that she and Soul had been dating in secret.

He almost forgot to turn onto the hall leading to the library."

The narrator stopped abruptly, eyes narrowing at the growing shrieks in her audience. A lizard had crawled onto the scene, darting through the crowd in a panic as the children tried, desperately, to snag it. As suddenly as she had stopped speaking, the woman was on her feet, weaving to the epicenter of the flailing limbs where one of the male students had finally succeeded in grabbing her scaly guest.

Long brown fingers uncurled, silently asking to be given the reptile.

The woman reclaimed her position on the fountain, gently stroking the lizard's head as she continued.

"'I hear that she used to work at the cabaret house until she was forced to quit. Apparently customers kept fighting over her.'

'No way! She's a model who retired after breaking her leg on stage…literally!'

'You're both wrong. She's a bride Lord Death ordered for his son online!'

'You're joking right_?_ Dumbass.'

'Why the Hell would Lord Death feel the need to get his son a mail order bride?'

'Why else would Death the Kid _personally_ show her around the school?'

'That never happened!'

'Dude, I totally saw them!' The boy's two friends gaped at him, their eyes the size of tire rims.

'Dude!'

'What?'

'You saw her?'

'Didn't you? I mean, it was between classes and everything!'

'No!'

'Why didn't you tell us sooner?'

'Okay, I was on my way to the bathroom when-'

'Excuse me, would you please order?' The boys jerked as an irritated voice snapped them from their argument, the girl behind the counter glowering at them. She was scowling very deeply, eyes sharp and brows twitching as her fingers drummed on the counter. 'You've been standing there for over eight minutes.' These three were the last customers of the night and Sigh was ready to go home.

It was times like this that got on her nerves. When she was pulling an extra shift and staring at annoying people that just couldn't understand how stressful working in a coffee shop could be. How every person wanted their drink different then the next, extra cream or less sugar or shaken instead of stirred. Like ordering the same drink as anyone else would confirm the fact that a soccer mom leading an ordinary life was the same as the police officer in front of her and the businessman working quietly in the corner. Be it forever forbidden that anyone dare to order the same thing as anyone else.

If Sigh hadn't needed this job and didn't like the pay, she would've simply thrown these boys out on their asses. They all stood there in their slackened jeans and baggy shirts and gossiped about the very girl they were ordering refreshment from. Discussed her life and decisions like they knew anything about it, like it was their right to debate on her reasons to come to their desert city.

It wasn't that Sigh was surprised really. The moment she'd stepped foot on the streets of Death City, lacking an escort (the look she'd given Kid cracked the paint on the wall behind him) and more than a little lost, she knew it was matter of time before she attracted unwanted attention. Those who lived in Las Vegas, close enough to Forbidden Fantasy or Mr. Jenkins' book store, were used to the walking show stopper, her pretty face buried in a book, and her flighty hands waving an uncommitted greeting. By simply exposing themselves day after day, year after compounding year, they had grown bored with the lovely little woman, and had just started treating her like a normal person before she left.

Being in a new city meant new faces, citizens who had yet to be exposed to the attraction Sigh couldn't seem to turn off. Her very first day job hunting resulted in thirty winks (weirdoes), twelve death glares (jealous girls), and five telephone numbers (_seriously?_ like she was going to call them on in her spare time or something). The rest of the week was no better.

Sigh had taken to hiding her face behind a surgical mask, padding her clothes to make herself appear shapeless and plain. She managed to snag a job at the local Deathbucks using only her wit and her experience in customer service. She was proud that her smarts had earned her a paid position in life while her beauty had only resulted in slack jawed stares.

'I don't mean to be rude,' she acted quickly to defuse the offense in her customers' eyes, annoyed their conversation had ended so abruptly. 'But we're closing. You're my last ticket before I can leave.' She had been locking the door when they busted in, nearly barreling her over. She was the only one there, allowing her co-workers the luxury of escape while she mopped the floor and tidied the machines. Now she would be forced to start all over, emptying the register and wiping up excess coffee that the ancient cappuccino maker sometimes leaked.

One of the boys snorted, sliding the young woman money before he and his friends ordered.

'Women' she heard him whisper as she prepared the last drinks of the night. 'You talk about someone prettier and they bitch for attention.'

They all laughed.

Sigh was glad they couldn't see her.

She often wondered what made something 'beautiful', where lay the line between beauty and the rest of the world. When did something become truly lovely, deeply charming?

For the longest time, she had seen the same loveliness as most others did, believing it lay in the face and body, petite limbs and fragile movements. Like the pretty little princesses in the tales mothers tell daughters, or the famous actresses that grace the movie screen. Being adored meant one had to be flawless in actions and words, smiles coy and laughter like the tinkling of bells. Graceful. Dainty. Polite. Loved by all.

This assumption was accurate, at least for surface sight, pleasing for the eyes and satisfying enough to last until age cast its hand.

Then what was once considered precious and pleasing was cast out, banished for the same reasons it had been taken in; the exterior. Humanity had evolved around what they could see and feel, ignoring the true essence of the world around them and embracing what came quickly and provided instant gratification. Fake implants, painful surgeries, expensive baubles, all for the ever allusive, mass pleasing physicality. To one such as Sigh, whose views relied as much on the inside as out, these additions were shallow and sad, providing an unnecessary amount of discomfort to life and creating a mockery of quid pro quo.

It was the same as when Madame used to braid her hair, yanking out knots and responding to the young girls pained whimpers with 'pain before beauty, my dear. Pain before beauty.' Like it was something that everyone except Sigh had come to accept. Yes, her hair was thick and disagreeable and extremely hard to force a comb through. And yes, even doing her own hair was a painful experience (although her scalp had toughened over the years) but it was the principle that drove the girl mad. Beauty, in her sincere opinion, couldn't be made. It just _happened._

Wrinkles are branches that bear the fruits of wisdom.

Squinty eyes make room for bigger smiles.

Pudgy limbs are warmer embraces.

Everyone had an aura, everyone had a soul, everyone was beautiful in the eyes of little Psyche Éclair, former street rat.

It was an unfortunate fact that she was slowly worn down, her beliefs corrupted and destroyed by the shallow faced world around her who only noticed her long legs and bright eyes. Growing from an awkward child into a eccentric young woman she'd refused to surrender her beliefs until absolutely vital. It had been a hard lesson to learn, lecherous hands and eyes grabbing for her developing hips and bottom as she passed. The more attention she drew the more she longed to hide, her duties shifting as she requested more jobs backstage to stay hidden from the world.

The young woman ignored style, choosing comfort despite her somewhat retroactive fashion sense, never wore makeup, and chose the thickest glasses possible instead of the contacts Madame offered. Aside from lessons in self defensive capoeira (a result of crying and convincing Madame it was for the protection of the workers), she didn't seek an answer to her natural born clumsiness, but instead allowed herself to blossom into a full grown goof as the years went by.

And still those who sought paintings and statues came. A lovely, quiet thing to look at. Her ability to debate the economic fluctuations of eighteenth century Europe didn't matter. Nor did her eye for detail, her knowledge of literature and how to properly make couscous. No one fought to hear her talk; they came for the fair, the graceful, the Belladonna that was meant to take the stage.

She had wanted, just once, for someone to look her in the eyes and like what they see, to hear her opinion and nod and debate without losing their train of thought. After so long of waiting, hoping for someone to relate to, her secret hopes had been left to dissipate, rotting away like a dream deterred. She waved her white flag, content to grow into ugly spinsterhood whilst staying out of sight and mind. She would've gotten away with it too if it weren't for that meddling Kid.

Sigh stripped in the middle of her apartment, layer upon layer peeling off until she stood in faded, mismatched underwear. It wasn't like there was anyone there to see it and besides, the air felt good on her suffocated skin. Piles of cotton grew rather uncomfortable in the desert streets of Death City.

Two bedrooms, one bath, a kitchenette, and a den. The apartment had came fully furnished with overstuffed plaid couches the color of moldy bread and two bedroom sets that looked as though they would rather be elsewhere. A window over looked the lower levels of the city and the street three stories below beamed with the moon's overeager grin. Library books occupied every flat surface that wasn't her dinning area; her coffee table, television, and nightstand each sporting literature of various age and genre.

Sigh pulled on grey sweatpants and navigated her way to the window, completely at ease though half naked. She threw up the streaked glass before moving to her kitchen, hoping to get a night breeze to visit and clear out the musty smell the living quarters seemed to produce. Though she had gone over the apartment with a vacuum and dusted until her allergies fought back, there were still bits and pieces of the little rooms that needed attention.

As she dug through her refrigerator, pushing aside the half eaten remains of the previous night's dinner and ignoring the urge to scarf the rest of her yogurt, the familiar sound of nails on her windowsill brought an unbidden smile to her face. The young woman turned, cream in hand, to greet her visitor.

The strange little cat had shown up a few days after Sigh moved in, pawing at her window and gazing at her with big yellow eyes. She had ignored it originally, but the pathetic mewls it was able to produce melted the ice casing over the young woman's heart. She'd offered the strange feline a can of tuna, coaxing it into her den to view it in the light. She was fascinated that the color of its fur was only a few shades darker than her own tresses.

Her original assumption was that she had invited a witch into her home unknowingly, and she was fully prepared to act in defense. She used to hear stories of witches taking the form of their familiar -bats, snakes, and even spiders could be found performing magic- but the little cat had no traces of such taint, gazing up at her like she was crazy for taking up a fighting stance. It felt no different then any other cat really, the same whimsical, absentminded essence flitting about it without a care in the world.

It was more likely her new companion was simply the victim of an overindulgent owner, one who probably entered it in pet shows and auditioned it for cat food ads. In the owner's defense, the feline hissed whenever Sigh went to remove the witch hat, meaning that there must have been some sort of redeeming quality to the cap she couldn't see.

'What?' The cat was looking at her the way only cats can, the gaze that seemingly pierced through flesh and soul. It skimmed over her scandalous attire before coming back to her eyes. 'I haven't done laundry yet. Besides, its my apartment and we're both girls…' she picked up the cat, earning a yowl of dejection 'right. So this is okay.' They looked at each other for a few more seconds, Strange Purple Kitty still looking miffed at having her privacy invaded.

'You're much too smart to be a cat, ya know?' The cat didn't respond, but Sigh proceeded to scratch the tip of an ear, earning forgiveness.

The next morning found Sigh half dead as she sipped her (first) tea of the day. She arrived an hour before she was expected, beating the worst heat of the desert and reading one of the many books she was in the middle of. This was a book of poetry by the great bard Poe, and just as she read of the raven, shrieking the lamentable _evermore!_ a presence was detected over her shoulder.

Those who had worked with the girl in the past, be it kitchen help or stage performers, could attest to the simple fact she was not someone to sneak up on. Indeed, many had suffered wrath as she lashed out suddenly and dangerously, slapping and punching and, in worst case scenarios, throwing. It was a simple self defense defect in her brain, one that urged her to defend herself against anyone who dared to approach while her back was turned. Their eyes free to roam as her attention was given elsewhere and, had it been an aggressor, they would've been able to attack (the closest instance had been when a kitchen aid approached with a mop). The chances of someone actually seeking to end her life had been pretty slim, despite her gritty upbringing, but she was positive this reaction could save her life one day.

Sigh's fist lashed out behind her just as the person reached out to touch her shoulder. It wasn't until she'd made contact, her balled fingers colliding with a firm abdomen and the person sinking with a gasp, did she recognize the aura.

She leapt of her seat.

Mask in place and padded clothes straightened, she backed into a low table, falling onto her bottom as the young reaper in front of her struggled to stand. A bubbly giggle bounced off the walls of the nearly empty coffee shop, echoed by annoyingly loud laughter. They must have been quite the sight, a reaper winded by a woman and said woman promptly following him to the ground.

'What are _you _doing here?' Sigh ignored her embarrassment, dusting herself off and glaring at the shinigami. He glared back, rubbing the spot she had punched him with only a slight wince.

'I'm a _customer_, here to enjoy some morning coffee before I start my day.'

'And you _happen _to pick this Deathbucks, the one where I work?' Kid's eyes widened a fraction, noticing her uniform for the first time as his eyes grazed her head to toe. 'Why are you wearing a surgical mask?' he avoided her question 'are you ill?'

'I get sick easy.'

'You never mentioned it before.'

'Why would I? Honestly…' Sigh couldn't keep the snap from her voice, choosing to gather her things in preparation for a hasty retreat instead of continuing a pointless conversation. 'I have to start my shift now, so please stay away from me,' she actually had about fifteen more minutes, but like Hell she could sit there and participate in pretend pleasantries. 'We're not allowed to socialize while on the job.' She turned with an inaudible huff, leaving a stunned and slightly offended Death the Kid in her wake.

'Rawr,' Liz murmured as her meister rejoined their group, their friends barely stifling snickers and grins. It was decided long ago, when the first of them became a Death Scythe, that they would make conscious efforts to stay in touch. People have a way of drifting apart as they get older, growing into new habits and a leaving behind the old.

Youth and good times create the assumption that happiness and friendship can last for an eternity, that one's ally today will retain such status until death. It is difficult to come to terms with change in all its many forms, to accept when it is stated that something will be present today and not tomorrow. Every moment is fleeting, every instant of life is a one of a kind experience because yesterday can never return and words cannot be reclaimed.

Holding close to one's associates, clinging to a fraction of the past, is a way to soothe the growing pains of life. Though many fail to see the wisdom that stems from retaining allies, this group of young adults had combined their souls on numerous occasions to defeat evil. That left a mark on them, and they were all too aware of the uses of alliance.

The end result were these little meetings in Deathbucks, a tradition started in the hope that they would stay close to one another. It is in this way that Death the Kid and his friends came to sit together every second Saturday in the same chairs they had used years before, sipping the same drinks they never grew tired of, and compared stories. The day would be filled with laughter and camaraderie, dinner eaten together at one of their homes.

'I don't think she likes you very much,' Maka sighed, turning the page in her book. Like the others, she was pretending to have only heard part of the confrontation instead of giving it rapt attention.

'Of course! She noticed the great Black Star and was offended Kid was blocking her view of my impressive awesomeness!' Liz sighed over the bold assassin's proud laughter, his partner Tsubaki trying to coax him down from the table. 'Yeaaahhh, no. It probably has more to do with Kid dragging her all the way to Death City than who he hangs out with.'

'Yep,' Patty chirped in agreement. 'She _really_ didn't want to come. She gave Kiddo a bloody nose just for talking to her!' The childish pistol giggled at the memory, strawberry cheeks perked into a naughty smile. She knew how this would affect her friend, but the opportunity to poke fun was too good to pass up. His obsession with complete balance -which bordered on text book Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder- wasn't nearly as bad as it had been in his younger days, but when it was thrown in his face he couldn't help the slight depression pulling at him. Melting on the spot was the only way he knew to portray this sensation of dark foreboding.

'I was bleeding out of one nostril. So unsymmetrical…scum, shameful, I don't deserve to be a reaper, a meister, a person, my _hair_…' Noticing Kid's sanity was slowly deteriorating, Maka cleared her throat and gave a gentle smile. '_Anyway _I didn't really see anything unnatural about her. Didn't you guys say her soul was off in some way?'

'And that she was using some sort of sexy magic? She doesn't look so hot to m-' it was a knee jerk reflex for a copy of _Pride and Prejudice _to be lodged into Soul Eater Evans' face; Maka didn't even turn to him as a fountain of blood erupted from his cracked skull. Despite the fact that the white haired scythe appeared to be dying, Liz leapt at the chance to distract Kid from his pathetic groveling. 'She's not doing it right now, so you really can't see it. But when we found her in the alley, Kid says her soul changed somehow, like it mutated or something…right Kid?' She elbowed her meister and he nodded numbly. Maka placed her hand on her chin in thought.

'Is she using soul protect then? She's a witch?' Kid shook his head, both to clear his thoughts and to respond without whimpering.

_Symmetry, why hast thou abandoned me_?

'No,' he said dully 'Father wasn't specific, but he assumes she's not of witch descent.'

'Then how-'

'I'm thirsty!' Patty's sudden whine burst in, a pout on her peach face. Indeed, the group had been talking for nearly twenty minutes now, neglecting to order and interrupted by Kid's attempt to speak to Sigh. The reaper frowned at his weapon's complaining, his irritation mounting when Black Star shouting something along the lines of espresso and God coffee. 'Patty, it's rude to interrupt someone else's conversation.'

'Actually, I'd like my mocha now too.' Liz's eyes darted between her meister and the counter, an inexplicable smirk on her face. Mischief shimmered in her robin's egg eyes, easier to read than the wicked glint that was ever-present in her sister's own optics. Despite these signs of his future destruction and torment, Kid remained oblivious to her poor intentions. He rose from his seat with a scoff, having lost the stick drawing they'd held previous and was expected to order for the group.

Liz had always known, since they were small, that Patty was smarter than people gave her credit for. That she processed things at an incredible rate, reading people quickly and reacting the way she did to hide her true thoughts. That laughing exterior hid a dark intelligence, and if asked, Liz would promptly answer that the fact Patty hid her true emotions was perhaps the smartest method of communication. It was a brilliant poker face, because being underestimated was the surest way of catching the drop on people. It'd worked on the streets. And it worked now.

How she loved her sister for this façade, because no matter how bad things got, how dim it appeared, the shorter pistol was ready with a smile and a giggle before doing what had to be done.

Liz felt her smile grow to epic proportions as she noticed what her sister had seen long before. They watched as Sigh took register duty, completely unaware that Kid was approaching the counter.

The humor of the Thompson sisters could be cruel at times."


	6. Chapter 6

**BB says: **Wow! It's been like month since I've worked on this last. To tell you the truth, I've been toying around with creating a _Naruto _fanfiction in the future. Of course it'll star my favorite character ever in the entire world, **Gaara.** He was my first true anime crush *gets starry eyed* I love a crazy, vulnerable guy who turns his life around by becoming a leader to his people. Who is then able to become an inspiration much like he himself was inspired to better his life instead of continuing on a path of moral destruction and misery. Where was I? Oh yeah! I'll make this chapter nice and long for ya'll, as an apology for my inconsistent updates :D.

**Rating: **Teen. I've decided that everything I write will be T. Forever and ever.

**Disclaimer: **I do not, have never, and will never own any part of the anime/manga _Soul Eater _or any of its characters.

**BB says some more: **Apparently you can choose your own name once you join Shibusen. In the spin-off, _Soul Eater Not!_, a character references Soul Eater Evans as an example of this, meaning that his real name is not Soul Eater, but rather just Soul Evans. That could also mean that Black Star is a name he chose for himself (though I doubt it considering his father was White Star) and Death the Kid has a different name as well. Then again, I got this information from the Soul Eater Wikia page so…check it out for yourself, if you like. I'm pretty sure Death the Kid's name would be Death either way, but it could also be some sort of super long Latin name (because he's a shinigami and it just seems to fit).

"Where is it?" The infuriated roar that shocked the children seemed to come from nowhere, the storyteller once again devouring them with her tale.

"'Where?' A tall figure ravished the home, but received no answer. Ancient eyes watched silently as their property was torn apart, valuables, both sentimental and monetary, were thrown to the ground. He smashed pictures, broke a window with a chair, and toppled book shelves in its rampage. The man sounded overbearingly arrogant, an incarnation of authoritative demands and excessive pride. 'Where are you hiding it?' He spun to glare accusingly at the old couple watching him with brave eyes, the man clasping his wife's hand.

They were both decrepit, hair thin and wispy atop faces with paper skin, the woman's eyes taken by cataracts and the man's mouth toothless. Many times their family had asked them to abandon this little house on the outskirts of town in favor of moving into a retirement home, toss aside the fading flamingos and overgrown lawn. But again and again, they refused to abandon the little building to the mercies of the ever encroaching modern age. This was where their children were born and raised, grandchildren came to visit, great-grandchildren gazed upon in reverence, a house they had built on their own shoulders with their own hands. They could not leave.

The woman was the one to answer. Despite her whispery voice and limbs that quaked with age, she was strong in her response. It was she who could feel the waves of the earth, sensitive, for a human, to the world within the world and the one who had taken the job when called upon. 'You'll not find it here, monster,' she hummed, spite in her voice and a smirk on her lips. 'It is long gone, by now. You are years too late. We have already done our duty.' The man bristled in irritation, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his pants hands. 'It's rude to hide it. It belongs to me, you know.'

'No,' the old man spoke now, his wife tired by all the commotion. He was not like her, not attuned. But decades of marriage had formed the sort of bond needed to understand her unspoken words. 'You know that is not true. You know it was never meant to be yours, never meant to be a trophy. It remains safe from the likes of you.'

They both knew what this refusal to comply meant, had known since that day so long ago. And yet they held no fear. They were old now, had lived happily together and had many wonderful days. Even if they were meant to die here, be eaten by this monster, they would be together in its gullet. And someday, when someone finally destroyed their captor, they would be free to venture into the afterlife, hand in hand. This was only the end of this life, and the start of the next." The narrator paused as an ache appeared in her chest. The children were stirring restlessly by the time she spoke again.

"Days, months, or years later, Lord Death watched the ripples in his mirror as he made a call. In most situations it was he who received the calls, much too busy with students and teachers and lesson plans to personally place an inquiry. That's what he had his students for, really, to investigate phenomenon he either couldn't or shouldn't spend his time on. It was they who had the ability to come and go as they please, half way around the world or the next city over. They were his legs now, his eyes where he was blind. It would have been very simple to call in Sid to investigate, because that's all this call was, really.

A hardy bit of research that Lord Death had been selfishly ignoring for the past month. He was actually surprised Kid had let it slide so long (although he had the jolly thought that the boy was finally coming to terms with his father's rather laid back sense of timing) and he was certain today would be the day the younger would actually lose his temperament. Even if he did, Lord Death was fully prepared with the same answer he'd given himself for dallying in such a manner; it hadn't seemed quite so important in comparison to most of his other obligations. And it still wasn't. Human souls mutated harmlessly all the time. No two souls were alike in every way, for that would make the world nothing but an oversized copy machine cranking out the same thing repeatedly. He thought Kid recognized such a thing by now, having been able to see souls from a very young age (as most shinigami can).

He didn't know why he suddenly felt the need to check up on the issue, although it was possible he was mentally scolding himself for his brief practice of procrastination. Because he knew for a fact that he was the only one who could hope to get the information he needed.

Not because Sid lacked tact –_heavens _no- but because he had _too much _subtlety. In the end, it was the zombie's politeness that would be his downfall, for surely this woman would tear him apart the second he stepped foot onto her turf.

Besides, this had gained his attention. Not because she was under an enchantment of sorts and not because she'd called Kid a fool. Truth be told, all young people are fools, and because there was no human or animal that is quite as old as Death, everyone is an idiot. It gives a deeper, more accurate meaning the aphorism 'I am surrounded by idiots,' for it is an unfortunate truth that gathering knowledge and wisdom over centuries of life leaves one much more experienced, patient, and all together logical than others.

There was no blame to be placed, of course. Lord Death was wise enough to know that even he wasn't all knowing, that other shinigami knew more than he did, that his father had in fact been that much wiser by the time he faded away. In the end, even the incarnation of death didn't know all there was to know. But he did know more than most.

When the girl had adamantly insisted that his son was a fool, he nearly cracked a smile behind his mask. It was different than the constant grin that was meant to comfort his students, or the calm, contented smile whenever he looked into the face of his son. The girl had come _this _close to making Death laugh. Perhaps it was her sudden leap from frightened to furious that tickled him so. Or even her blatant condemnation of a merely curious Death the Kid. Or maybe he was laughing at himself, having nearly cracked the young woman's skull with a fatal blow the moment she entered the room. Because no one could look that much like his dearly departed, no one had the right to try. When her appearance bounced back to its natural state, all in one instant, he calmed, recognizing the spell.

Having his temper flare, even for a moment, toward someone he had yet to get to know, had been a terrifying experience. A fury and passion for battle that he thought he'd grown out of eagerly reared its nasty head when he thought his love's honor was at stake.

It really was funny. He felt that selfsame smile teasing the corner of his mouth again.

'Hi~ya! How are you?' The happy was in his voice, as it always was, when talking to his students. Or former students, as the case may be. She looked like he'd woken her up (well it _was _five in the morning, much earlier than most humans wanted to leave the bed), the sheets behind her were messy and her hair was a tangled halo of grey. Lord Death recalled when it was the color of mahogany, when her pale face was smooth and her brown eyes wide and mocking instead of the narrow bitterness that shadowed them now. She was making a valiant effort to t peel the flesh from his bones with her hard glare

'Goodness me! It's been awhile!'

'Not long enough.'

'Ohhhh?' Lord Death tilted to the side. 'How rude! You're going to hurt my feelings, Annie-bananie.' A twitch appeared beneath the woman's squinting eyes, her lips pursed. She'd been drinking, her brow clenched in the pain of her hangover.

'What do you fucking want, you stupid old man? You better not have woken me up to shoot the shit.' Death sighed. Straight to the point; no fun at all.

'There's no need to be snippy. Early to bed, early to rise you know.' She harrumphed, digging thought the drawers upon which her mirror was perched. She withdrew a pack of cigarettes, not hesitating to light one and blow the spoke in what would be Death's face. 'Those things will be the death of you.' The ghost of a smile fluttered across her face. 'You're even worse than I remember, dodging the issues. Did I die in my sleep or something?'

'I hope not.' She sighed, rolling her eyes. 'I've had my fill of reapers the past few weeks,' she crossed her arms. 'Muscling their way into my life like it's any of their damn business. Would it be too much to ask for you to leave me the hell alone until I die? Really.' She took another breath of her cigarette. 'Come now, I thought you and I were friends? You were one of my better Death Scythes, I must say. Is it too much for me to check on you every few decades?' Finally, the old woman let her temper show on her face.

'Don't fuck with me. You think I ain't pissed you sent your boy here? What business could he have possibly had in Las Vegas?'

'Kishen eggs can appear anywhere. You know that.'

'You think I'm not still capable of killing a kishen egg?'

'I didn't say that. Please do not jump to conclusions.' It was because of this, her natural hostility, the readiness to fight and her blatant disrespect held for most people, that Sid would have failed. Lord Death was the closest this world could come to earning the woman's respect, the only one who could pull her from her bed so early and engage in questioning.

She had been quite the trouble maker when she'd walked the halls of his school, not really caring about the opinions of others as she blatantly bulldozed her way to the top. The woman had been a raging terror to the younger students of the school and a living goddess to the males of her class. She was powerful, with or without her partner, decimating her opponents in sparring matches and declared a death scythe before anyone else. Ruthless, confident, and strong; Lord Death was completely honest in awarding her the title of best.

'You didn't even bother letting me know he was coming! I didn't even know you'd had a brat while I've been gone.' A single, large finger unrolled, shaking in the woman's face. 'To be fair, I didn't know you had a daughter either, Anaise. I'd say they're about the same age, so it was an equal exchange of miscommunication.' She seethed in the face of the reaper's passivity.

'You didn't _need _to know. It's not like I sent _her _after _your _kid,' she finally ground out, eyes hard and cutting. It was a glare that Death was surprised he hadn't recognized the moment young Psyche had thrown it his way.

'That being said,' the reaper strategically ignored the venom in Madam Éclair's voice. 'I hope you realize that their encounter was entirely by chance. Kid claims that he had no idea what she was, or that she was even in the area of his target.' Madame frowned deeply, probably imaging the best way to hang up on a mirror. 'I'm also curious about the girl's peculiarity, which is the purpose of this call. What can you tell me about your young ward?' Madame sneered.

'Nothing.'

'Anaise-'

'Don't take that tone. I'm not just being bitchy. I don't know anything about her. I found her on the streets, took her in, and now she's my daughter.' Lord Death hummed through his mask. 'Really? Is that all?'

'_That's all_. She didn't even know her own name when I found her. I've spent the last few years just making sure she didn't die. I don't give a fuck about the rest_, especially_ about the assholes who abandoned her,' Madame grunted, temper cooling a bit as she thought of the younger woman. It had been over a month now, nearly two, the days rolling by without so much of a checkup. She honestly hadn't expected Psyche to forgive her that quickly -after all, the girl perfectly imitated Madame's temper- but any form of contact would've been a weight off Madame's shoulders. Was she okay? Did she like Death City? Was she eating well? Even if she called just to tell Madame how much she hated it, hated _Madame_, the old woman would relish in the sound of her daughter's voice. The fact that she was well enough to gripe and snit.

'There's…nothing wrong with her, is there?' Lord Death was surprised by the sudden softness in Madame's voice, most traces of fury fading. This was Anaise Éclair, so of course it was roughhewed concern, but it was concern all the same. He imagined it was very difficult for her to be constantly absorbing blows in her life, never faltering, even in the face of her son's death.

'She refuses to talk to me. How would I ever know how she's doing?' The woman had taken Death's silence as disapproval and moved to defend herself, the bite returning to her words. 'She's so fucking childish sometimes. I had to do this because otherwise the stupid bitch-ling would grow old in my attic.'

'You did the right thing, Anaise.' The woman stopped her growling to look at Death with a raised brow. A smirk formed as she absorbed the reaper's words. 'And how to you figure that?'

'At least now she has the chance to find out who she is. If your story is true-'

'Damnit, look-' Lord Death held up his hand, continuing his moment of solemnity. He still spoke in his jokey voice, but it was low, focused. 'If your story is true, and she truly doesn't know who she is, her best chance is here. She is safest in the walls of my city, at least until I can decide how best to deal with her.' Anaise scoffed, but it lacked fire. Her tense shoulders relaxed, if only a bit. 'Deal with her? I figure she's still trying to figure out how to deal with _you_.' The old woman chuckled to herself.

'Well,' Lord Death brought the lightness back into his voice 'if that's all you can tell me, I suppose this call was for naught, right?' Madame gave a neutral grunt, mind elsewhere. 'Don't worry about Psyche, Anaise. I have every intention of assuring her comfort. Consider it a favor from an old friend.' He paused, giving her a chance to speak. She didn't. 'Well, goodby-'

'Wait,' Madame spoke before he could turn from his mirror. 'Yes?' he asked after a moment of silence. The woman looked distinctly uncomfortable, not quite content with her decision to draw the conversation out further. 'If it's any help, I guess I can offer you a bit more information.' Lord Death pretended to be surprised. 'Oh?'

'When I found…when I found my daughter,' Madame stumbled a bit with her words. 'She looked to be about four, maybe five. Real small. Big eyes. Innocent,' she chewed on the cigarette hanging from her mouth as she moved to her nightstand. Rifling through the drawers, she spoke again, loud enough so he could hear her.

'I have this hobby, something to pass the time in my old age. I collect newspaper clippings of fascinating stories. Elections, awards, natural disasters. A few years after I adopted Psyche, the library let me have a few of their older articles.' She came back to the mirror, scraps of paper clenched between her fingers. 'I didn't know what to make of it at first.' She lifted the first one so that Lord Death could read it.

It was an article on the floods of the Big Thompson and Cachela Poudra rivers, dated 1976. It was a lineup of the bodies covered with sheets for censorship's sake, people going about the begrudging task of identifying the dead. A child with big, miserable eyes sat to the side, watching the events, perhaps waiting to be claimed. She had a shock of tangled looking hair; clothing tattered and fingers woven together. Her gaze was away, watching the people weeping over the dead with an unreadable look to her lips. The photo was well taken; it was almost possible to _see _her curl farther into herself as it was snapped. There was something about her - about the set of her jaw, the stiffness of her back, the soft eyes- that left no doubt as to who she was.

"At first I thought I had found a common face.' Madame took away that article and replaced it with a new one. 'But then I saw this.'

Hurricane Hugo, South Carolina 1989. Again, disastrous and miserable, a picture taken to stir the observer to action. A young child wrapped in a blanket, clutched in the arms of a rescue worker.

'And this.'

It was an article on the Northridge Earthquake in California, dated 1994. The picture above was of the devastation, collapsed buildings, wrecked cars, and survivors climbing over the rubble. Among them, gazing at the camera, was a small, unmistakable, girl.

'Of course there are more articles, although 1974 is the oldest I can find. She went over three decades without aging. And it seems that catastrophes were an annual occurrence for her, leading up to me finding her.' The air was tense.

'There is no need to alarm yourself,' Lord Death tried to comfort in his silly voice. 'It's probably coincidence. There is magic that would allow the girl to live beyond her appearance, but the chances of her being caught in natural disasters every year is preposterous. No witch alive is powerful enough to track her movements in such a way.' Madame shrugged. 'I admit, I don't like the idea of Psyche being a harbinger of destruction. But, even without proof, I just get this feeling every time I see these photos. Like I'm barely scratching the surface of that girl.' She shook her head. Lord Death gave a little laugh. 'It's not like you to be so solemn, Anaise. Perhaps you're getting soft?'

'What would you know?' The reaper chuckled. 'Things change when you become a parent. It's a lesson we all come to learn.' They sat in silence a moment longer, pondering their children and what the future may hold for them, respectively. In was a moment where they could unite, a common ground upon which to build a certain fragile trust.

'I never claimed that my daughter was human,' Madame whispered, folding the articles with shaking fingers. 'Or that she was even close to being normal. But if you claim she's safest in Death City, that you can help her find her past, then you have to prove it to me.' She looked Lord Death in the eye. 'Why?' Her voice was almost broken, almost worried, and almost thick with stifled emotions. 'Why _her_? I have to know my daughter is not just an unknowing target for chaos.' Madame sighed, bitter smile forming. 'I don't think my old heart could take it. I mean, really. The second I start getting attached, I find out something's gunning for her? No fair. What if, now that I've let her out of my sight, the same destruction comes raging back?' The old woman closed her eyes.

'If only as a comfort, I've created another theory, if you're willing to hear it.'

'Of course. I appreciate anything you can offer me, Anaise.' Her armor was back as Lord Death spoke, her shoulders once again tensing as she took a long slow drag. 'It's a bit farfetched, and I could be really wrong right now. But if you laugh at me I swear to God I smash this goddamn mirror.' Chuckling, the shinigami nodded in encouragement. 'Oh yes! Go on, go on!' Madame hummed through the smoke in her lungs. 'Maybe, just maybe, I've been raising a wiccan.' It was quiet. Lord Death could feel the souls of his city stirring to face the new day.

'Really? That's what you think?' It was a struggle to keep the humor from his voice, resisting the urge to berate his former student for such a kooky idea. 'Wiccans don't exist, Anaise. At least, they don't anymore. Witches pretty much took care of them centuries ago.' Madame snorted, looking slightly embarrassed and majorly offended. 'You called for my thoughts, and I gave them. I don't care if you listen or not, stupid old man.'

The mirror went blank, signifying Madame's dismissal of the reaper.

It wasn't just Anaise's adamancy that her daughter was some sort of unwilling pawn in some sort of dastardly do, but a few details just weren't falling in line like they would've if the girl was simply a witch in disguise. While it was possible that the girl was using soul protect, it was impossible for a witch to use magic without revealing themselves. And, according to Kid, she had attempted to use magic on him once before, with little more than a spike in the air. No contamination entered her soul, no malicious intent or darkness that flanked the average witch's abilities had overshadowed her glow.

And then there was the girl herself. The eyes of the child in each picture, the sheer, sincere mixture of terror and confusion. It wasn't something that could be fabricated. She was horrified, clinging to herself in a poor attempt at protection from those around her. She was just as mystified as everyone else and, whether she was faking amnesia or not, she was true in her own lost nature. Perhaps the fact that she had refused to leave Madame was the fact it had been the only safety she had ever known. The only stability to be had for one such as her.

There was the slight, highly unlikely chance, that the second theory would prove true. Could it be that one more Wiccan was still alive, living along the shadows? It would certainly explain the child's longevity. But the witches had been thorough in their hunts, merciless in the slaughter of their somewhat less powerful sisters. Witches claimed that the natural magic wielded by wiccans was betrayal in the worst of forms, an antithesis to their own destructive powers. The earth magic a Wiccan held was made to heal and support, allowing them to live in a sort of harmony with humans. Their souls didn't pulsate with wicked intentions and cruelty, so they blended in quite well as doctors and midwives.

But as witches grew in strength, as news of their horrible acts spread, humanity grew weary of magic, no matter the type or the source. In the end, in was a combination of the humans' fear and the witches' hatred that drove the nails in the last Wiccan's coffin. It still sickened the reaper to think of the innocent wiccans lost to Salem.

Perhaps the trail of weather phenomena had simply been maturation of the girl's powers, made all the more difficult by her refusal to acknowledge her own magic. The suppressed urge to make use of her abilities could wind itself within her until it was released, unintentionally, when she least expected it.

Out of the strange and into the odd." A hair blew into the narrator face, causing her to sneeze.

"The silent city was a shock to Sigh, and at first she wasn't sure she would ever grow accustomed to the calm.

Two months later, and it was getting better. Which worried her. She didn't want to become used to this place; she wanted to return to her old life of security and certainty. She even considered calling Madame Éclair just to check on the old biddy, but squashed the idea before it could blossom. She was probably glad Sigh was gone, irked that it had taken her so long to leave in the first place.

Sigh told herself she was glad she left too.

Today had been Sigh's day off, and only because her manager had insisted. She had taken no sick days, no early leaves, and very short lunch breaks. She was the ideal employee, reliable and quick to work extra shifts. If anything, she was too wonderful, and squinty little man with the pursed lips was worried one of these days she'd shut down on him.

So he'd more or less confiscated her uniform and gave the keys to one of her coworkers. 'A few days, Psyche. You need it.' She'd fought the urge to snap at him, yell that she didn't _need _a flipping day off, she _needed _to stay busy. Her body was used to constant movement, working dawn the dusk to hold together her mother's business. Used to being relied upon, scarcely a moment to herself as she worked for the benefit of a productive day. She'd never thought it would ever be an issue, as she used to gripe about her overbearing job, but now that she was without it her body seemed unable to adjust. Many days found her restless and jittery, longing to wax a floor or squeeze a showgirl into a costume that in any other case would be much too small.

Poor Sigh wanted to be drop dead tired. And, as it was, she was only fatigued.

'Hi!' Sigh jumped at the voice, nearly dropping the keys to her apartment and her groceries all in one motion. She glanced up, noticing, for the first time, the young woman behind her.

'My name is Maka Albarn,' sparkling green eyes smiled at her 'I don't think we've met. Which is sad, 'cause we're neighbors, right?' Sigh nodded wearily, jumping as the limber girl was followed by a tall young man white hair. He glared at her with disinterested red eyes, dismissing her without a second thought. At first, Sigh had regretted not padding the rest of her clothes as carefully as she had done her uniform, her only protection her mask as she went about her shopping. It provided some security, but not much. She was extremely comforted by the fact this boy didn't gaze at her from head to toe and back again, desire in his eyes. It won him a substantial amount of points in her book.

'Oh,' Maka noticed her companion 'this is Soul. He's my partner and-'

'Her boyfriend,' Soul had a lazy drawl to match his somewhat bored demeanor as he slung an arm around Maka's thin frame. The girl blushed a flattering pink, elbowing him gently. 'I was _going _to say roommate.' Soul smirked and planted a loud, comical kiss on her cheek, causing the blush to deepen. Seeing they were thusly distracted, Sigh gave thought to ducking into her flat. 'So,' Maka's voice broke through her thoughts again. 'What's your name? You're not on the register downstairs.' She had totally forgotten to add her name. Maybe it was for the best anyway; it wasn't like she ever had any visitors.

Maka noted how the girl's face flashed with confusion and brief embarrassment, hands clinging to her keys like she longed to make a break for it. Her eyes were a soft, cottony grey, hesitating to keep eye contact and constantly straying to Soul nervously as she adjusted her thick glasses. A part of Maka wanted to assure her, all humor, that Soul only ate bad people. But something told her the girl would only jump at the comment and become horribly embarrassed She probably didn't even recognize her own weariness. Long brown fingers brushed wisps of soft purple hair from her face, tugging at a strand caught in her surgical mask. 'Psyche Éclair. Sigh, if you like.' Maka made sure her smile was both accommodating and sincere as she offered her hand. This whole situation reminded her of another person with a shy smile and nervous demeanor…

She had to stop there. It was too painful. And it was different this time.

'Nice to meet you, Sigh. Do you know a guy named Harvar? His surname is Éclair too.' Sigh paused for a brief moment before clasping Maka's hand. 'Yeah. He's my cousin.' Maka's face lit up, happy to find a topic of conversation. 'Really? Small world, huh?'

'I guess.' Truth be told, Sigh hadn't seen cousin Harvar in years, since the last time Madame had dragged her to a family reunion. Most of the family had openly disproved of both her and her mother, Madame only a relative through marriage and her daughter an adopted street urchin. She'd liked cousin Harvar well enough because at least he was polite to her. The others were a bit cold, deciding it was Madame's fault her husband had died and whispering rude comments behind her back. But not Harvar. Stoic faced, he sat with Sigh and her mother on the edge of the group allowing himself to be coerced into talking about his life at Shibusen. After all, Great Auntie Anaise had attended in her younger years. He supposed his new, adopted cousin wasn't too annoying. At least she wasn't running around getting underfoot like the brats of his other aunts and uncles.

'You guys should totally meet up again! I think it'd be nice for you two to reconnect.'

'Oi, Maka. Don't be a busy body.' She looked up at Soul with danger in her eyes, communicating silently. She backed down after a moment, as though remembering something unpleasant. 'I guess it's not any of my business-'

'No. I'm sure Harvar and I can hug and catch up later.' Not really. She'd be surprised if he remembered her name. But her response was enough to wipe Maka's face of its sudden solemnity. 'Oh I don't know about _that_. He's not exactly the run up and hug type. But I assume he'd at least give you a handshake.' Sigh couldn't help the smile that grew on her face at the comment, hoping Maka could see it reflected in her eyes.

'Hey! We're having some friends over later. You should come.' Noticing Sigh hesitate, Maka pressed on. 'Don't worry. It's not like a wild party or anything. There'll be less than ten people, including me and Soul.' Knowing that 'no' wouldn't be an answer, Sigh nodded uncertainly. 'Great! It starts at seven and goes until the movie's over!' So much for a night of reading and pigging out on cookies. Although Sigh supposed it was healthy to mingle with others her own age.

'Are you sure that was a good idea?' Soul asked once in the security of their shared apartment. His partner seemed very pleased with herself, welcoming a shy new girl into their circle.

Like last time. He really wasn't sure what he would do if Maka was hurt like that again.

'Hm?' She asked distractedly 'what do you mean?' Soul sighed, running a hand through his hair. 'I mean, isn't that the girl who has it out for Kid? You know, the one who gave him a black eye? I don't know if it's really a great idea to put them in one room together.' Maka waved his worries away with one hand, walking into the kitchen to make dinner. 'You worry too much! Blair says she's nice.'

'Blair thinks anyone who gives her food is nice.'

'And I'm sure Kid's just itching to apologize and start over.'

'Wouldn't it take both of them wanting to start over? And I'm not sure she's ready to forgive him.'

'What is with you? Why are you so against her already.' Soul didn't answer, choosing to slam his body on the sofa.

He _really _didn't want to see her get her heart broken.

After making a little something-something to present at the not-a-party party, Sigh dressed herself in sloppy sweatpants. They were, as she affectionately dubbed them, her cookie pants, what she wore when she felt slovenly or was about to gorge on junk food. Coupled with her man sized t-shirt with the Las Vegas logo and her fuzzy slippers, she looked as half-assed as socially acceptable. Peace treaty cookies stacked high on a plate, she debated whether it was worth bringing her mask or not. Because not even she was immune to the allure of cookies, and, sooner or later, it would be discarded in favor of indulging herself anyway. She left it in the end.

Her hesitation at the door was attributed to the fact it had been along while since she'd had friends. Or, rather, friends that weren't either much older or much younger than herself. No matter what age she was, it always seemed as though her peers granted her a weary girth, feeling that she wasn't quite like them in some way or another and banishing her without a second glance. Who's to say inviting her to this little get together wasn't just some elaborate prank to pull on the weirdo who'd moved in? Laugh at the strange girl who'd been dumb enough to forget to register her own name with the apartment's charter. Sigh looked down at her plate of cookies, suddenly very unsure.

She was spared the decision was the door flying open, revealing a smiling Maka dressed in her pajamas. 'Sigh! I wasn't sure you were going to come! Are those cookies?' The warmth that washed over Sigh was very assuring. 'Well…yeah. I wasn't sure if I should bring something…'

'No, no! They're great. Most of the time my friends just eat up all of _our_ food.' Soul coughed a word that sounded suspiciously like hogs. 'It's nice to have someone considerate enough to bring something.' Sigh smiled her second smile of the evening. 'Oh? Well then you're very welcome. Just be aware I have every intention of eating most of them myself. So no touchy my cookies.' They laughed together. 'Seriously though. If you reach for one you'll pull back a bloody nub.' Catching the humor in Sigh's voice despite her straight face, Maka chuckled. 'You hear that Soul? No pigging out! I mean really, between him and our friend Black Star I can see why there are starving people in the world...'

They bantered playfully as they awaited the arrival of the rest of their party, Sigh blissfully surprised at Soul's method of dry humor.

'You worked in a burlesque house?'

'Owned by my mother, operated by me.'

'…if we became friends, would I get a discoun-' _Great Expectations _to the face. Maka offered it the Sigh, but she'd already read it before. 'I thought you said it started at seven?' Sigh couldn't help asking. It was nearly an hour later and she was still the only one there. Maka shrugged, biting into a cookie. After long deliberation they had decided to start on the treats. 'It did. I guess I should've started it at eight though…' Sigh blinked in confusion. 'I don't see the big difference.'

'Wait,' Soul looked up in realization. 'Maka, did you tell Black Star we invited Sigh?' Maka nodded slowly. 'I told Tsubaki. Why?' Soul leapt up from the sofa. 'That bastard!' He barely managed to yank open the door before a blur of black and blue flew in, presenting enough force that surely would've smashed the wood to pieces if he hadn't moved fast enough. 'Oh yeah,' Maka laughed uneasily 'I forgot his big entrance.'

Sigh curled in on herself at the newcomer as he pouted at Soul 'Dude! You ruined my super awesome God kick!'

'What was I supposed to do you idiot? Let you shatter our door?'

'How else can I teach her of my awesome power?' The two proceeded to bicker childishly, shouting in each other's faces like that would result in one of them backing down. With all the fuss, Sigh barely noticed the pretty young woman sliding into the seat next to her. She looked slightly embarrassed at the antics of the blue haired boy, fidgeting with long dark hair as she smiled sweetly. 'Hi. My name is Tsubaki. Maka told me your name was Sigh, right?' Aforementioned young woman was attempting to break up the fight between the two boys, only succeeding when she slammed two chops (preformed with her hands. Perhaps she's had run out of books?) into their heads.

'Yes. It's nice to meet you. That's your partner…Black Star, right?' The Japanese young woman seemed to be fighting the urge to go to his unconscious body, Maka standing over them in victory. 'Yes. I apologize for his brash behavior. He's a very straight forward sort of person.' Sigh shrugged. 'It's alright. No harm done.'

'Thankfully." Maka reclaimed her seat on Sigh's other side, pinning her in. 'That idiot.' About ten minutes later, as Sigh was helping Maka to prepare refreshments and wondering if she should call an ambulance (Black Star and Soul were still on the floor) a knock on the door frame signified the arrival of another guest. Sigh stumbled at the noise, a hole in her pants catching on one of the lower cabinets and yanking it open. Pots and pans of various sizes tumbled to the ground, causing Maka to wince as she moved to open the door. 'Sorry!' Sigh called after her. She waved the apology away as her hand met the doorknob.

'Come on in. Although I _told_ you guys seven.' The aura snuck up on Sigh like a stranger tapping her on the shoulder. 'How many times must I say it? Eight is the superior number! I would never been seen arrived or leaving a place at such a detestable time as seven. One must maintain balance and-' His footsteps, like his voice, were solid and assured as he entered the room, Maka greeting his partners. 'Oooo! Cookies!'

'I don't know if you should have any sugar tonight, Patty.'

'-expecting us even close to the hated seven was a mistake!' No one saw it coming. Sigh, watching Death the Kid enter from the kitchen, her eyes narrowed and wary. She pondered making a break for the door before it swung shut, regretting accepting Maka's invitation. How had she not recognized her from before? From the group she sometimes noticed the young reaper speaking to. It was bad enough he came to Deathbucks almost all the time for his black coffee with two sugars and no cream, heated scalding hot and served in the most symmetrical cup they had (really?). Why should she be subjected to his presence outside of work as well?

Patiently, she waited until he had entered the room fully, his back to the door as he gingerly stepped over the bodies of his two guy friends. Soundlessly, she darted for the door.

Everything happened quickly, processed by her brain before her body could react. A flash of black and gold, the slamming of wood upon wood, and now she was face to shoulder with the same person she was trying to escape. A tense silence followed, in which Patty looked from her meister to this strange girl with a curious look and Liz blinked in shock. She'd never seen Kid move so quickly outside of a fight. Maka, had taken a step back, and was now casting a cautious eye on the pair.

'R-right. Sigh, these are my friends, Death the Kid, Liz, and Patty. Guys, this is Psyche Éclair.' Sigh glared up at the reaper. 'We've met.'

'Indeed we have. Am I in your way, Miss Éclair? Were you trying to leave?' He asked with faux innocence, an unheard challenge in his voice. Sigh scoffed. 'Good to see you're as stupid as ever. I was trying to close the door for you, ingrate.' There was no way she could leave now; it would be seen as a retreat. 'Well that appears to be unnecessary. I've taken care of it.'

'Obviously.' The air crackled with their silent battle. Kid made no move to get from between the door and Sigh, while Sigh refused to back down. After several tense seconds, the young woman finally retreated, opting to go back to the kitchen and continue with her task of pouring the drinks. She took two steps backwards, eyes locked with Kid's before finally turning her back on him. She'd stayed just long enough to show she hadn't lost, she'd merely decided not to win.

'Seems as though she remembers you,' Liz offered to break the silence. Kid nodded, gazing after the hostile young woman.

Eventually they all settled in front of the table, Soul and Black Star recovering in time to play cards. They started with poker, moved to Texas hold 'em, and were eventually forced into speed. Issues arose when Patty began to cheat and Sigh couldn't seem to win any sort of hand (despite the fact she'd grown up in one of the most famous gambling cities in the world). As they played, they talked, and Sigh was surprised at how easily she seemed to mold into them. Much of her unease had vanished in the wake of their open auras, the colors mingling comfortably around the table.

The familiar pinks of Liz and Patty intermingled with the sunny orange of Maka. Beside her the ice blue of Soul hummed calmly in comfortable contrast to the electric indigo of Black Star. His aura had inflated itself to where it nearly devoured the demure yellow of Tsubaki, but instead appeared to feed off her support and patience. Beneath them all was the lurking black of Death the Kid, seeming to wrap around all of them as an oversized shadow, still causing Sigh to stiffen at the sheer depth of its power.

Apparently Sigh had invaded their movie night, and was expected to help vote on the movie of choice. While Black Star and Soul primarily enjoyed action flicks, Patty was partial to comedy, Liz and Tsubaki found romance preferable, and Maka and Kid were fond of independent films. Comedy was immediately knocked out because of the lack of votes, and a pouty Patty refused to assist any of the other encampments. It then fell to Sigh.

'I sorta don't care.' The blue haired young man leapt to his feet with a wide grin. 'So action wins!' Maka was quick to retort. 'And why is that?'

'Because a big star like me gets double the votes. Duh!'

'What?' Kid's eye twitched. 'That makes absolutely no sense! I say we watch all of them, because four movies are easier to split symmetrically!' Maka turned to the reaper. 'I thought you were voting with me?' Sigh's presence seemed to have upset some sort of balance, Black Star shouting with his mouth full of cookies, Soul grumbling something insulting about independent movies, and Tsubaki trying to quell the arguments. From her place between the black haired young woman and her pigtailed friend, Sigh felt a bit cornered.

'What _about_ a comedy?' she felt some sort of sick enjoyment making the situation worse, watching Patty once again jump into the fray. Finally, to keep the peace, Tsubaki turned her back on Liz and voted with Maka and Kid. So they popped two bowls of popcorn to go with Sigh's almost gone cookies and Maka's juice.

It was the latest in a long line of mentally stimulating movies, something about a governor and his aspirations to become president and the obstacles involved. It wasn't based on a true story, but rather a near future, as none of the politicians of the world were of the past or present. It was all very good, if one was into that sort of thing, but an hour in and one of its strongest advocates, along with those who refused it, were fast asleep. Two pairs of eyes remained open, yellow and grey.

If Sigh had one complaint, it was, surprisingly, not her only company. The boy reaper seemed not to have noticed the others drifting off, and, if he indeed did recognize the fact that he was alone with a girl who may or may not have been trying to kill him, he apparently didn't care to try and talk to her. Sigh didn't care to extend any sort of olive branch to him either. She was too busy dealing with her real issue. That is to say, the rather slap shod job the creators had done with translations. The actors were currently speaking Swedish and Sigh was at a loss. She shot a look at Kid, to see if he too was struggling. She shouldn't have been surprised to see him giving the movie the same amount of attention he had during the English sections. Bastard.

'Can I help you?' The young woman nibbling on a cookie hadn't realized she was staring until he was staring back, eyes once again appearing to glow in the dark. He'd raised two dark brows with his question, pale skin almost translucent in the light from the television. 'No,' she said simply, refusing to feel any sort of embarrassment as she adjusted Maka on her shoulder. Tsubaki had fallen asleep draped over her lap, arm wrapped around her waist. She was fascinated how quickly she'd been accepted by them. Although there was still the chance they were going to turn on her. She refused to let her guard down.

Death the Kid was similarly pinned, with Patty leaning against his legs and fast asleep on the floor, Black Star drooling on his shoulder (no matter how much he pushed the loud assassin away he always returned). Liz, bless her, had fallen asleep on the arm of the couch instead of on her long suffering meister. Although Kid almost wanted her to lean against him so he would be equally uncomfortable on both sides.

'I see.' The reaper turned back to the film, which was still being spoken in Swedish. A combination of frustration and curiosity spurred Sigh to speaking again. 'You can...understand them?' Kid looked at her again, obviously slightly irritated that he couldn't pay attention to the movie. 'Yes,' came his short response 'I speak most languages of the world.'

'Right.' Something clicked on his face. 'Do you want me to translate for you?' And risk such a blow to her pride? 'No. I'm sure I'll get it eventually.'

'Are you sure? Because-'

'No. I'm fine.' Sigh forced them back into silence, now staring at the screen with a purpose. She was sure the next English part would explain what had occurred.

Death the Kid wasn't so fortunate. All night he'd tried his hardest to ignore her, attempted to move her to the same rank as his friends, merely another acquaintance to become used to. She was clearly viewed as such by the others, easily adopted into conversation and encouraged to speak of her life before Death City. Which, as it turned out, seemed much more exciting told from her point of view. What had merely seemed like an encampment of gambling and sin became a world of lights and magic coming from her lips, a world of wonder where one could never be sure what was going to happen next or when. He was easily drawn in by her ability to tell stories, her attention to detail and the sarcastically humorous twang she added to most serious situations she had been in.

And it wasn't just her bitterly winning personality that had him watching her. Oh no. Nothing could ever be _that _simple. It was something about the girl herself. With her soft hair and her clear, intelligent eyes and the stubbornly lovely way her jaw was set. She worried one of her full lips as soon as the movie switched to a language she didn't recognize but refused to be rescued from her plight in order to protect her independence. A strength befitting a Princess, or a Queen, or a Goddess…

Damn. Perhaps he hadn't been exposed to her as long as he thought; Allure was wrapping about him once more. What had happened before, when he first arrived, had scared him half to death. Something inside him had been desperate to keep her from leaving, adamant that they spend this time in the same area where she was so close he could speak to her, if he so chose. He had wanted, no, _needed _her to stay, and it was quite alarming. She nearly collided with him, bouncing off as he slammed the door, the urge to place his arms on her waist sudden and unwanted. He was grateful when it vanished, taking that to mean that a spell had been the culprit.

He was happy for Soul and Black Star. Their complete immunity meant that they'd found their true loves.

'Can _I _help _you_?' He was staring and jumped as she turned to face him with an agitated lilt to her voice. Her eyes weren't quite as hard as they once had been, but still held a guarded sort of distance as she cleaned her glasses. Her hair, a thicker shade of lilac in the dark of the room, was in a lazy bun with rebellious curls crowning her brow. The shirt she wore made her breasts nearly vanish, uneven as the logo leaned heavily on one side and a hole was visible upon the right sleeve. He could still see the mole on only one side of her face, only one brow raised in inquiry. He was glad that he was pinned; otherwise he may have been tempted to approach her and fix her appearance.

Or not.

Maybe he just wanted to brush the hair from her face. He wasn't sure anymore.

No, no. He couldn't be taken in by her. There was still the chance she had less than desirable motives, the main reason he had to be sure that she was asleep before him. Not because he wanted to see her face wiped of all the angst and tenseness he saw when she was awake.

'Yes, actually.' Sigh seemed genuinely surprised at his answer, shield faltering in favor of curiosity. 'Really now?'

'Yes. I would like to apologize. Officially and sincerely.' Her eyes widened behind her glasses, plump lips opening slightly in disbelief. Before Kid could relish in her shock, suspicion flickered across her face. 'Oh? What for?' He'd played this game with Liz before. Apparently one couldn't just be sorry just to be sorry, they had to guess the right reason they were sorry. Otherwise his apology would be nulled, and he would be even farther on the black list than his original position. 'Many things, as most people are. But in this case, for taking you from your home. Letting my curiosity get the better of me.' She was silent, the movie continuing, unnoticed. 'I suppose I'm sorry that I've inconvenienced you so.' Sigh blinked, and Kid stopped talking. He was concerned he had apologized for the wrong thing, said something to inflame her temper worse.

She looked away and back again. That bottom lip was caught between her teeth again, nostrils flaring. 'I guess…it's okay. Don't worry about it. Kid,' she muttered, and if it had been anyone else, he would've said she sounded shy and uncertain. He shrugged, jostling Black Star and causing the boy to wrap an arm around his shoulders and mumble.

How he hated his life. But the small smile Sigh graced him with made his increasingly awkward position slightly better. Even if it was only amusement at his predicament."


	7. Chapter 7

**BB says: **I'm gonna level with you guys; my updates are just going to be weird for a while. I have a new job, my brothers are returning to school (one is starting high, the other is starting fourth grade) so my life just got busy! I still love y'all though ;).

**Rating: **Teen

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any part of _Soul Eater, _manga, anime, or merchandise.

**BB says some more: **I missed you Obsidian!

"As a curious young woman prone to mishaps and miscalculations, it was completely logical for the girl to be seen reading as she walked.

Especially since there was no reason to believe in the existence of anything particularly deadly on this bright, sunny day, there was no use becoming overly cautious.

Even with this seemingly blatant disregard for self-preservation she felt nothing akin to concern. She thought herself to be quite mature, intelligent and witty to the point of arrogance, an arrogance that had somehow twisted her mind into a helix; doubling in until it became a youngster's belief in personal immortality. She would never associate such a naïve thought with her own processes, but they were the same qualifications that might be found in Black Star's brain; not the fact that they were truly immortal, but the fact that their minds were processing the details of their lives in a way that immortality seemed to be the only possible answer in the end. Unconscious (at least for Sigh) but evident all the same.

She had never been one to simply jump into situations of significant danger or that posed the possibility of making her uncomfortable. She assured herself that simply watching the relationships between others would prepare her for her own societal interfaces, even if she didn't participate. Even if she went ignored or banished to the other side of the classroom, shunned by her peers and invisible to her mentors.

Antisocial tendencies compounded with the aforementioned stifling of unconscious megalomania had created a shell around her, separating her true being from the world. Few were privy to her self-proclaimed knowledge and cunning; her best qualities lay beneath a skin too thick to be pierced by normal means. She didn't care -she thought, she _knew- _if anyone bothered to dig. They probably wouldn't like what they found anyway. She shunned before she _was _shunned.

Reading in public just provided a polite way to say 'shove it up your ass, I'm busy.'

'_Why are you talking to me? Is there a sign on my head that says "will speak to bitch-lets?" I have a book because you're a boring little shit sucker who I was praying wouldn't stink up my air with hair spray. I don't have time for your mediocre life, you future porn star. I'd rather be a freak than an ass kisser.'_ Of course the girl a younger Sigh had told off so thoroughly was spotted by a talent agent the next day. Became a movie star. There was no justice in the world; although Sigh still hoped for the girl to have a drugged-out crash.

But back to the present.

Now that her stern faith in herself, forced though it was, has been established, the ability to judge the young woman juggling a book, her bag, and a bagel, becomes available. This was not the first time she had done this, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Flimsy though this talent of walking while reading was, it was still a security blanket that Sigh had clung desperately to for most of her young life.

But fate is a funny, mischievous lady, who is especially fond of teaching lessons in the worst way possible at the least opportune times.

And so it was now that Sigh had a brush with death. Again.

It wasn't the shattering of glass that caught her attention. Nor was it the twisted metal that had once been a bike careening towards her. So wrapped up in her literature was she, the young woman simply avoided these obstacles and the fleeing people, muttering cookie cutter apologies whenever she brushed too closely against someone.

''scuse me. Sorry. Pardon me.' Of course no one was listening to her mumbles, for they were too busy running for their lives. Sigh, walking in the opposite direction of wherever the crowd was going to in a hurry (was there a new movie opening today?) hopped over an obstacle, her legs moving without her eyes noticing it was a downed street light. But she really just had to know how Antigone faced down the challenges of her age to become one of the most feminist women of ancient Greek plays. She was one of the greatest fictional women in Sigh's opinion, even claiming the spot before Medea (because the latter was a little nutso).

A buzzing in her ear was what finally alerted her to the danger, a fierce humming that was most certainly one of her most dreaded enemies; a bug. And though she swatted it with full intention of insecticide, it must have been a blessed fly that was destined to save her life. Otherwise she would have kept walking, even further into a murderer's den than she had already wandered. She twitched a bit as her mind struggled to catch up with her legs, hard eyes mildly curious as they watched her. Sigh's mouth was still working around her bagel as she observed the damage the burly woman wrought with a hammer that swung in a meaty hand.

'Why aren't you running? You stupid or something? Or maybe,' a foul mouth grinned, showing off the gaps in her teeth. 'You're a part of shibusen?' Sigh wrinkled her brow, wondering why she was being spoken to.

It was a tall, intimidating woman, holding at least six inches on the girl who stood without any apparent concern. She had large hands and a thick build, sporting threadbare jeans and three buttons undone from the top of her flannel shirt to reveal barely-there breasts. Her homely face possessed a flat nose and thin lips, greying brown hair cut short above the same primal eyes most kishin eggs shared.

'You lonely baby? Do you wanna play with mama?' Sigh hadn't really been listening as the hiking booted dame spoke.

'Do I know you?' The woman teetered on the line between plain and ugly as her smile grew wider. 'Brynhild Paulsdatter Størset, sweetheart. But you can call me Belle Gunness.'

'Oh.' Sigh took a step back, bumping her heel on the curb. An aura the color of pea soup clung to her skin. Deceitful. Cruel. She could practically feel the ground shake as the larger woman stomped into an offensive attack, her weapon hefted high above her head.

It came down in an arch, Sigh nearly earning a caved skull before her feet pulled her away.

'I really hate girls like you,' the woman had an accent. Dutch? 'Never let my daughters get to your age. Think you're too damn smart for your own good,' a pivot saved Sigh from several broken ribs. 'I did them a favor! Saved them from how ugly this world is! A wonderful momma I am, rewarded with their pure little souls. Pretty little souls. I deserve them!'

A large foot came down on Sigh's dropped book, sweat crowning the girl's brow as she continued to dodge and weave around the large woman. She leapt onto the hammer wielding arm, bringing her foot up into the crook of the woman-turned-monster's neck. She hoped to stun; her blow only infuriated.

Her glasses flew from her face as a powerful punch connected and she crashed, gasping, through several tables and a restaurant's window. The floor broke her fall, the shouts and shrieks of the people reminding her to move before the kishin egg decided to attack the patrons. Sigh spat out blood from her busted lip and was relieved to find her jaw wasn't broken.

She was forced to rely on sound as the rumbling approached again, the smashing of concrete telling her she'd nearly lost her head for the second time. The bookworm stayed on the balls of her feet, sucking in her belly to avoid the huge hand reaching for her. Lithe fingers wrapped around two of their meatier opponents and bent until a snap was heard. The kishin egg didn't recoil in pain as Sigh had hoped, instead bringing her hammer around.

Although she had ducked when the whistling of air past metal was heard, the young woman's shoulder caught the edge of the weapon. An unbidden yelp escaped, but Sigh's body was moving through the pain even as her mind screamed. She buried her fist in the woman's torso, enough strength in her punch to bust a bench in half. A very satisfying crunch was heard, blurred vision missing what her ears and aura sensors could tell. The large woman was still winded when the younger leapt forward again, bringing her foot up and around to crash her heel into what she hoped was a wrist.

She was lucky.

The broken hand could no longer hold the massive hammer, the weapon falling with a heavy 'clunk' between them. Sigh's feet never stopped, easily flowing into her next movement as a thick, blurry, forearm swept through the air to push her away. She rolled to the discarded ball of metal and, with effort, hefted it into her own hands. With a cry of victory, she used the weapon's weight to swing her arms around, aiming for the fuzzy mass of plaid and pasty flesh she could barely see. Miss Kishin Wannabe lunged forward, arms outstretched and one hand dangling uselessly from a damaged hinge. She probably intended to tackled her smaller opponent, strangle her to death with limbs thicker than the girl's torso.

The scent of death and blood permeated the air, Sigh falling backwards and feeling clammy heat as log sized arms pinned her to the ground. If not for the wet cracking she heard as the momentum of the hammer was stopped, the warm sticky liquid that was spilling down the weapon's handle and between her fingers, she would've panicked.

The hammer clattered to the ground once again as the large woman fell forward onto her prey, smothering her with bulging flesh and rot. Shaking hands rolled her off and returned to their owner to gingerly inspect injuries.

'Damn. Can't a girl grab groceries without being attacked by some crazy bitch?' Her voice was shaking, and she hated herself for the fear that lingered. The woman's soul bobbed above her corpse, Sigh not possessing the ability to completely annihilate the body like demon weapons could.

The young woman rubbed her eyes as though that would clear her vision, beginning the long task of finding her glasses. She had another pair in her apartment, but she preferred not to walk back home blind. The blood on her clothes and the bruises on her unmasked face would earn her enough attention without the added factor of her stumbling along and feeling for a path.

It was only as her fingers (finally) curled around her discarded spectacles, her eyes dismissing the (late) shibusen students that were attempting to help her up (with a healthy dose of fascination and fear) that she recognized the window she'd crashed through. She refused to cry, to feel any sort of defeat, pulling herself up and opting to stagger home.

It was awkward the next day, her manager calling her into his office early in the morning. She did him a favor, avoiding much of the discomfort by coming in casual clothes. She knew what it was about; she had seen him in the crowd of people that had run to the windows of the wrecked Deathbucks to watch her fight.

She carefully stepped over the repairs that were already underway, plastic over the broken windows and new tables still waiting to be unwrapped. Her bruises complained with every movement she made.

At least he didn't make her suffer. He simply told her, his eyes announcing he was glad the desk was separating them, that Deathbucks wouldn't be needing her services anymore. Simple, a clean cut with no one the wiser, his pudgy hand smoothing a greasy comb-over. Sigh really didn't feel much of anything, having prepared herself for the worst (which included her being carted off to a mental institution).

He was scared. Of _course _he was. She wondered how many others had developed a sense of foreboding regarding the strange girl who had moved to town, the one who had killed a kishin without ever attending the DWMA. Just another freak who could take down other freaks. Was that what the city really needed? The same city that's foundation was based around trapping the ultimate source of insanity?

Damn it all to Hell. What was she going to do now?"

A rustle of plastic snapped the children from the story, their narrator chewing ravenously. "Sorry," she spoke around a full mouth, hand flying to cover her half chewed food. "I had the sudden craving for a honey bun." She waved the pastry in the air before dunking in into a jar "with extra nacho cheese. Anyone want a bite?" Many students shook their heads urgently, others turned a delightful shade of green. "Oh? Okay. More for me. Where was I?"

"Sigh wanted to spend a while moping -watching tv, painting her nails, pigging out on cookies and cereal- before prying her discouraged body up and forcing herself back into the job market. But, as Madame had always told her, crying about anything never fixed nothing. She printed out twenty copies of her resume, choosing not to reference the Deathbucks who had become weary of her, and was out the door early the next day.

The entire morning and into the evening was spent fluttering from establishment to establishment, selling herself as best she could and a leaving a copy of her accomplishments in the hands of every Human Resources manager. Her only breaks were when her bruises flared, forcing her to take rests and wait for the pain to calm. She healed fast, but her body was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of fatigue and injury. Mid-day she decided to forego her surgical mask, once again breaking her own standards and cheating her way into people's good graces. She was just desperate enough to do so; she blamed the times rather than her own insufficiency.

In the end she secured a position at a department store several blocks away from her apartment building. A sigh of relief escaped as she exited the sliding doors, a small smile on her face as she paused for a moment to relish in her little victory. A part of her had felt guilty the moment the older woman offered to shake her hand. She'd said that Sigh looked like a 'nice girl' and had a 'pretty smile'. While this could have just been the woman's way of saying such things were desirable in such a position, the girl couldn't shake the sense she had manipulated her way into good graces. It was a sticky, icky feeling, and she promised herself for the millionth time that she would stop doing it. That she would stop preying upon those who didn't yet have defenses to her particular brand of influence.

Despite the mounting guilt settling in, there was something magical about earning one's own money, to rely on no one other than oneself. Hell, she was proud of herself. It felt so impossibly good. And then felt bad for feeling good and created a cycle of unfortunate emotional turmoil. She was completely unprepared to be struck from behind.

One of the shoppers, her arms full of bags and her gaze elsewhere, had slammed into Sigh's aching back. The injuries that had yet to heal screamed their defiance, her gasp of pain sounding more vulnerable than a Sigh not stunned by pain would have liked. The sudden surge of distress blinded her for a moment, tears gathering as she tried to listen to what the woman was saying.

'Oh my God are you okay? You really shouldn't have been just standing there.' Sigh gasped out an agreement, still struggling to get up on her feet. 'I mean, we can both agree that it was pretty stupid of you. Did I really hit you that hard?' Sigh nodded and wheezed.

Liz gave the girl one of her Brooklyn smiles, small and sarcastic with a hint of kindness. She juggled her bags, fitting them into a more comfortable angle, and stepped back from where she had been leaning over the winded Sigh. It was rude how she didn't offer to help her downed compatriot back to her feet, simply watching as the surprised young woman struggled back to standing, but she was sure Sigh would have silently shunned her help any way. She just seemed like that kind of girl, one that would never ask for assistance if she could help it. Self-reliance was the best method of survival for some, and it was a belief that was all too familiar to the former street urchin.

Besides, she would have had to put her bags down.

The blonde settled for inquiring after the other girl's health once more, telling herself that her concern was enough to make up for her negligence (although it was partially Sigh's fault too). The two looked at each other for a moment more, an awkward silence developing beneath their forced chuckles, before they simultaneously spoke again.

'I should go-'

'Patty expects me back soon.' Another bout of weird giggles.

'So…bye!'

'See ya.'

But as the young women stepped off, each grateful that their conversation was ending on a mutually agreed note, they were horrified to find they appeared to be walking in the same direction.

Sigh honestly didn't have anything else to say, and her eyes darted to and from her surprise travelling companion. It was obvious the demon pistol expected some sort of conversation to ensue, because walking in complete silence would be worse than forced speech. And while Sigh wouldn't call herself a people pleaser most of the time, she supposed she would indulge the girl. She was in a good mood.

'Doing some shopping?' Sigh's voice was calm and welcoming but Liz jumped as though startled.

'Y-yeah. I like to get out of the house sometimes, ya know?' Sigh did know, and related such. 'I usually go with Tsubaki or Maka, but Maka and Soul are on a mission and Tsubaki's visiting family. So it was just me today.' Sigh tilted her head.

'No Patty?' Liz chuckled sheepishly, shrugging. 'Well, no. Not _all the time_. I love her, but big sis needs a breather, ya know?' Sigh laughed and nodded. The relationship of the Thompson sisters actually reminded her of her girls back at Forbidden Fantasy. Sometimes freedom was needed to maintain sanity.

'At this point it's kinda like a hobby.' Sigh's smile was friendly. 'An _expensive _hobby.' Liz chuckled. 'It's no big. By the time Kid figures out I swiped another credit card the damage will have been done. What about you?' she gazed at the purple haired girl, only just realizing the latter was a few inches shorter. Perhaps it was more her commanding demeanor that had made her seven foot tall in the blonde's memory.

'Me?'

'Shopping?' Sigh couldn't contain a mirthful snort at the question, waving her hand as though shooing away the question. Like she could afford shopping sprees on her salary…old and new. She preferred to stick to outlet stores and thrift shops, clothes that didn't run freakishly expensive.

'I really couldn't.' She supposed there was no harm to telling the curious weapon 'I was job hunting.' The young woman's eyes widened, permeating deep to show shades of silver. It was like she had struck gold while mining for coal. 'Really? I thought you worked at Deathbucks?'

There it was. The question that was not quite a question, one that was probably on the tongue of every gossip who had noticed the girl behind the counter turn into a monster hunter. Because there was no way Liz didn't know what had happened, that Sigh had single handedly taken down a kishin egg right outside her workplace. The look on the blonde's face spoke volumes, for though she tried to hide the fact she was prying, Sigh had a talent for reading people.

The students from Shibusen had probably spread the word the moment they returned to classes, whispers in the halls that twisted into various rumors holding little truth. It had been a day, so it only made sense that the word had spread to the ears of Lord Death and, by extension, his son. Sigh wanted to call them on it, demand compensation for her lost job and the fact it took them four fucking minutes longer than it should have. If she had been anyone else, a girl not trained by her mother to survive monstrous attackers, she would have been dead and eaten.

Sigh gazed at the pistol with eyes of weary acceptance, easily noticing the burning curiosity that was shaking her aura. Upon closer inspection, Sigh noticed that it was softer than her sister's, still pink but almost a baby color. Tame and mild. It held no malicious intent; she was truly only fascinated by whatever gossip she'd heard and wanted to hear the straight story.

Sigh held back her own question, an inquiry as to just how bad the story had mutated.

'It didn't work out. I got into a catfight with a kishin.'

'Whoooooaaaa. Really?' Liz was laying it on too thick, and Sigh didn't hesitate to tell her as much. The weapon shrugged and had the decency to glance away. 'I mean, I'd heard about some chick taking on a kishin egg outside of Deathbucks. If you haven't noticed, most people here either protect or need protection. And you can usually recognize the protectors.' Sigh made a little noise in the back of her throat, allowing their conversation o fade to silence. After a moment, Liz spoke again.

'Did you really fly? And team up with a demon hammer?' The look Sigh gave her was one of incredulous amusement. 'Sorry, had to ask. You're in this city long enough and nothing seems too farfetched anymore.' She hadn't intended for her forlorn sigh to be funny, but Sigh burst into giggles anyway. She wasn't sure if it was the fact that the reaping weapon sounded so depressed or because her comment was a major understatement, but she had to stop walking in an attempt to stem her laughter.

'Sorry,' Sigh gasped, trying to fix the minor look of dejection on Liz's face. 'I think I have the giggles.' The blonde sighed, rubbing her arm. The evening was fast approaching and the desert held a chill once the sun had gone down. 'Yeah well, it's not my fault if the rumors become a little too believable. People always make up stories about mysterious figures. And it's not like you make an effort to put yourself out there. I haven't seen you since that night at Maka's.' A nerve was unknowingly struck, laughter dying in Sigh's throat at the pistol's blasé comment. Liz froze up a bit, realizing from the look on her friend's face that she had hit something sensitive.

'I'm not really a people person,' the suddenly sober girl sighed, averting her eyes. 'I don't play well with others.' Liz raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. Although it had been years since Kid had last attempted to do them for her, she still kept them ship shape in case he had some sort of downslide.

'You seem nice enough.'

'It's not my personality that's the problem. Although I think it has become a bit stand offish over the years.' Liz thought back to Kid's bloody nose. 'A bit. Yeah.'

'It's just-' A shiver ran down Sigh's spine, causing her eyes to dart forward and her muscles to coil. Her senses caught fire in a way she couldn't remember ever feeling before, although a slight nostalgia ached in the back of her head. Nostrils flaring, fists clenching, mouth twitching as though to form a warning snarl. She felt like an animal; cornered and forced to unsheathe her claws.

'Hey?' Liz turned her gaze on the woman before them, using Sigh's sudden hostility as an alarm.

The streets had suddenly run dry of people, the twilight sun casting a haunted glow across the landscape. Buildings, inviting and perky during the day, were winding into a sleepy lull, preparing to close. A silent wind blew, lifting Sigh's curls and rustling the bags that Liz held in her hands.

'You've got some nerve,' the woman spoke coolly, fiery red hair tossed in the same breeze. 'Sauntering around like that.' Sigh hummed through her nose, unsure how to respond and very confused at the hateful look she was being given. She had never seen this woman before in her life, and yet every instinct was screaming for her to run…

Or tear her opponent's head off.

She stayed silent.

'Is that your way of issuing a challenge? You want me to kill you?' Fury raged behind marmalade eyes, and Sigh felt Liz shiver beside her. So she could feel it too? The way the woman's aura was twisting and gnashing, a corrupted spin of sunny yellow and flat black. Not as consuming as a reapers, too menacing to be human, small enough to keep from becoming a kishin.

Although Sigh had never seen one so close up before, she knew immediately what she was facing. A witch.

'This is bad.' It was as though Liz's unneeded whisper had broken a spell, the magic wielding woman smiling cruelly. 'I don't care if Shibusen senses me! I'll beeeeee long gone by then!'

Sigh wasn't graced with the ability to see souls. But she could only imagine the sudden inflation of the witch's aura was a reflection of how much power she had been suppressing up until this point. It left Sigh blinded, the breath rushing out of her at the sudden upsurge of incandescent, sickly _yellow _that suddenly spread from the woman's being.

'Beeeees Buzzzzzzzz beeeessss beeeeee.'

'Move!' Sigh was barely aware of Liz forcing her out of the way, her own fascination with how magic warped one's essence hypnotizing her for a moment. She was snapped back to reality when a sound similar to bullets pummeling concrete was heard, large insects trapped as their stingers stuck in the sidewalk.

'Buzzzzzzzz bee,' the two girls rolled out of the way of another onslaught, bags forgotten as the witch layered spell upon spell in her attempt to kill them. Her minions wrenched themselves free but lost their weapons, dying like any normal sized bee would. This didn't deter the witch, whose smile was much too wide, her eyes laced with madness. 'Come on! We have to run!' Sigh couldn't have agreed more.

The next few minutes were easily the most unpleasant of Sigh's life, weaving into and out of abandoned streets as the sun finally finished its journey across the sky and a bloody moon rose. While Liz was obviously trying to lead them somewhere -presumably to her meister- they couldn't seem to go fast enough as the witch launched attacks from above. Their speed was greatly hindered by dodging stingers and explosions, wicked cackling permeating the air as the two girls desperately tried to escape. They both had stamina to spare and health on their sides, but an aerial opponent who could see every possible path they could take was too much to overcome. Cowed, the two eventually cornered themselves, an unprecedented dead-end rising before them.

The witch flew down to view them eye to eye, watching the girls struggle to catch their breath and keep brave faces. Sigh scowled at their predicament, fear too intense to actually feel, hands clenched.

'I can't use you,' she muttered to Liz, listening to the girl's shallow breathing and automatically knowing what her last desperate thought must have been. 'Even if we tried. I can't wield foreign weapons.' She could use Madame pretty well, but only after years of practice. She had once tried with one of the showgirls, one who happened to be a machete, only to find herself completely incapable of lifting the blade. Not matter how hard she tried, how many practices she put in or the strength she built up, it was simply impossible. She was apparently a one weapon soul.

Liz took a breath, presumably to argue against Sigh's whisper.

'Sigh-'

'Shut up! It's me she wants,' the young woman spread her arms as though intercepting a tackle. The witch paused a moment, curiosity sparked. Her clothes, tattered from the appearance of her wings, hung loosely from her body as she ceased walking. 'I don't know why. But if it means she'll let you go…' Sigh established eye contact, forcing herself to swallow her uncertainty. She was satisfied at how steady her voice was when she addressed the witch. 'Let her go. It's me you want.'

'Sigh!'

'No Liz!'The witch's aura surged and waned, her body twitching as though it felt the onslaught of Sigh's control.

'Take…you?' Sigh gathered more power and pushed forward, burrowing deep in the stickiness that was the witch. She almost wanted to hold her breath, the sudden fear of suffocation overwhelming her as her body gasped for air. Their auras tangled and Sigh felt more than saw the witch overtaking her.

Oh God. She was drowning deep in a gooey sea.

She fought to retreat, to break away from the contact she had accidentally constructed, only for the magic in the witch to leap forward and pin her. It cascaded like a monstrous wave, filling the girl with destructive intent and more power than she knew what to do with. Was this what witches felt like all the time? The seemingly endless flow of strength that, if not used, would eat away at their insides? Devour its owner like a pet turned parasite. It felt so right to feel this way, to want to destroy a town for the Hell of it or sacrifice innocents all to gain more of this glorious feeling. A contented smile broke out on the young woman's face, Liz's calls fading.

This all felt like an eternity. But it was only a few seconds.

'Why would I do that?' came a sneer. 'Release one when I could kill both?' Sigh felt a pang of fury at her opponent's words, snapping her back to herself like a broken rubber band. 'What? Let her go you greedy bi-'

She felt a hand wrap around her arm. It was Liz, dragging her as far back as the alley would allow while managing to face their opponent. 'The fuck? You idiot! She could've killed you!' Sigh blinked, confused and yet arriving at an epiphany as she felt the anger in Liz's aura mingle with her fear.

'Beesbee. Buzzzzz. Beeesss bomb!' Sigh's attention snapped back to the witch as she extended a hand. The witch's aura expanded only to snap back and coil into the woman's palm. Liz's fear resurged, her hand turning into a talon on Sigh's arm. 'I'm going to change Sigh.'

'I told you, I can't-'

'Try, damn it!' Sigh bit her lips and nodded.

She rather liked Liz. She was tough and down to earth. She wanted to be her friend. And she would rather not let her…friend die. Let either of them die. A flash of pink light, and her fingers closed on the cool metal of Liz's handle.

Her body was immediately dragged down by the weight on her soul.

The witch cackled, taking a moment to relish in Sigh's struggles.

To go out like _this _would be the icing on the proverbial cake. Beautiful irony at its finest moments, murder by the very being she was so adamant about not being of kin to. Every part of her screamed for her to continue fighting, to break through the hopeless fog that had fallen over her thoughts and was slowly numbing her body.

Her arms screamed as she fought to lift the pistol, hearing Liz cheering her on.

Fight.

Fight!

_Fight!_

The bomb was a curious thing, both physical and ghostly, pulsating with magic that would propel the spines that lined it into anyone in range. Except for its mistress, of course. Sigh surrendered, leaving the gun on the ground, assured that Liz would survive as long as she remained a weapon.

'What are you doing? Pick me up!' Sigh ignored her.

'PICK ME U-' the bomb exploded, rocking the entire alley with its power.

The will to survive surged forth in Sigh and drew of a well deep in her being. It pulled at her outer shell and broke through a barrier she didn't know she had constructed, startling her and making the world a large kaleidoscope for a moment in time. For a brief second, she saw not just the aura of Liz and the approach of her Meister, she saw _everyone. _The entire city, country, _world_ was beneath her fingertips, their essences so moving, so enticing, so beautiful that it stunned her.

The bomb went off. And Sigh knew no more." The storyteller irritated her audience as she took a long drink of her water, leaving them in suspense for a few moments.

"Her body creaked as she pried herself from the mattress, confused and the world a mass of greys and blues. As the day came rushing back to her, gruesome details outlined in all their glory, she couldn't help an unconscious wince, the brief hope that it had all been a dream. It must have been, because she could distinctly remember dying. And when one dies they cannot wake up stiff and confused. Or at all for that matter.

She was all the more convinced that it had all been a product of her imagination when pain didn't appear, bruises that had been there previously (if this was truly reality) had suddenly vanished. Like they were never there.

Yes. This was all a dream.

Then why was she still dressed?

And not in her room?

Sigh groaned, burying her face in her hands. The inability to dismiss the past as fiction forced her to review the details in revised color, every action thrown back at her with even greater force than when it had actually happened. Again and again, rewound as she picked it apart and waited for answers as to whether she was going crazy or worse. None came. This was her life. It had been something she lived through. And she shouldn't have.

The young woman was so frustrated that a tear actually made it down her face before a fist of frustration rubbed it from existence. She was scared in a way she hadn't felt for a while, a fear that was caused by her own blank uncertainty. Like being followed by an invisible monster, one that had her face, her voice, her actions, and yet was so out of control she had no idea when it would once again claw its way to the surface. For though she knew from the depths of her soul that she wasn't a witch, she was purposely skipping over the details that proved she was something more than human. Focusing on the factors that clumped her into the same category as mankind.

Clenched fists. Ten fingers.

Two legs, arms, eyes, ears. Ten toes.

One mouth, nose.

_Human._

But not.

As to be expected, her glasses were on the small table by her bed, the little room illuminated by the moon peering in through the window. She wondered how long she had slept, for it had been evening when she lost conscious and was still dark outside. She hoped that meant she had only been here for as short time, but there was no way her luck was that good.

She was still in the clothes she had worn in her job hunt, musty and wrinkled from use, and her bag was on the floor beside her. A paranoid little voice that sounded just like Madame told her to count her money before she left, but she had bigger things on her mind. While she had originally thought she was in a hospital, the upsurge of familiarity told her otherwise. It looked like the nurse's office at her last school, curtained off portions for privacy and a little chair for the nurse in charge to slide around on. A little clipboard was attached to her bed, explaining her condition with only the word 'fatigue'. She wondered how many nurses they had at the school to need little notes on the patients. Or perhaps her caretakers had just been forgetful.

The door looked like any other door, no outlandish locks or traps that she could see. She yanked it open before allowing herself to think it over, throwing herself into the halls of Shibusen.

Sigh knew it from the skulls used as adornment.

The school appeared to be closed, the halls empty and silent in the wake of her footsteps. The air was clean and cool in her lungs, refreshing on her somehow heated face. Perhaps she was running a fever of some sort, in which case it would be wise to get home as soon as possible. She wondered where her nurse had gone and when they would be back. Perhaps a well worded note would have been the polite thing to leave. She made a mental note to send a thank-you card.

The girl jumped from her thoughts at the sound of footsteps approaching, more than one person wandered the halls in the opposite direction of her own movements. Unreasonable panic gripped her, her feet taking her to the nearest door in search of a hiding place. Locked. As was the next. She was running out of options, the footsteps coming too fast for her to simply turn and bolt back to her bed.

'Who are you?' Damn. Sigh froze, her hand clenched on another door handle as though it could save her. 'Hey. The school's closed ya know.' Sigh was ashamed and embarrassed, her legs deciding the best way to end her discomfort was to flee. She had turned, feet spinning on her heels and bag slapping her side in preparation for a daring escape, when a powerful force collided with her back. It effectively winded her, knocking her painfully onto her face.

'Ow,' the bespectacled girl mumbled to the tile, hoping her glasses hadn't taken nearly as much of the impact as she feared. A slight rubbing at the impact site warmed her skin through her blouse, the sound of footsteps running pulling her back to the world of the living. She struggled to sit up, aware of little arms encircling her waist and making it difficult to move.

It was a young man who ran up to her, looking slightly concerned and greatly amused. His dark skin was only slightly darker than the arms wrapped about her waist, little limbs attached to little heads that were nudging against her in what could only be affection. The boy wore dreadlocks and braids, his sneakers squeaking beneath his baggy pants as he stopped. A large brown hand reached down to help Sigh up, brown eyes still laughing behind his glasses.

'You okay?' Sigh nodded slowly, slipping her hand into his. It dwarfed her smaller fingers. She was grateful for the assistance in helping her suddenly heavier body from the ground, but the two children clutching her waist refused to let go, throwing off her center of gravity and causing her to flail into the tall boy. He seemed to lose his train of thought in that moment, and was forced to speak sterner to make up for lost time.

"Fire! Thunder! What is with you guys?' The young man had an accent, one that seemed to have faded a bit but remained present in most of his words. Gazing at his face with the long features, the limber way his slouching body held itself up, she gathered he was from Africa. What part still alluded her.

'I-it's fine,' Sigh mumbled, because she really did like kids. She adjusted her now crocked glasses and forced herself to relax. 'They didn't hurt me.' Much. She pulled back the hand she had forgotten in his to place it on one of the small bodies clinging to her. The little blonde heads were tucked tightly just below her breasts, chins buried in her ribcage as two pairs of wide blue eyes gazed up at her in an adoration she didn't understand. She first looked at the one on her left.

'Fire?' The other head was the one that stirred. This one had a little frown on their face.

'Actually, that's Thunder. Fire is her brother,' there was a gentle smirk on the boy's face. Sigh nodded and looked away from him in discomfiture. 'Right. Thunder?' The little girl cocked her head slightly to the side. Sigh was grateful for the knowledge of the genders. It wasn't that they were particularly masculine or feminine, but the way faces and bodies are set so early in life can make it difficult to discern one sex from the other. They were both cute, equal height, with the same light hair and clear eyes. It was only when she knew one was female that she knew to look for subtle differences.

Thunder had a slight pout on her face, a little twinge of what may have been embarrassment gracing her already rosy cheeks. She was flat chested (making it all the more difficult to discern her from her brother) but her body dipped in a way that was privy to young women. The arms she had about Sigh's waist were gentle but determined.

'And Fire.' The boy's face was set, still too cute for words but marred by a little (adorable) frown. The way he held his body imperceptibly revealed his gender, legs and arms fixed somewhat firmer than his sister's. Sigh took a shallow breath, knowing that conflict would only make them lock their arms tighter. She wasn't sure why they had chosen to tackle her, a complete stranger wandering the halls, but had to assume they did it to anyone who sparked their attention. If she was truly like a shiny new toy, snatching herself away would not be met with positive results.

'My name is Psyche. Sigh, if you like.' Two pairs of doe eyes watched her carefully, listening to her tone and word selection. She was doing well so far.

'You know it's dangerous attaching yourselves to strangers right? I mean, for all you know, I could be a weirdo.' Wrong answer, the arms tightened a bit. 'Not to say I am one. And I love hugs as much as anyone else.' The tightening ceased. 'So, I guess I wouldn't mind it if you guys had asked to hug me instead of just doing it. You caught me off guard so of course I don't know how to accept.' Tighten. 'But I won't stop you now.' Relax. 'Want to be friends? And then you can always hug me later…'

They continued to look up at her face, although Thunder's pout had disappeared and Fire's frown was vanishing. They exchanged a look from across her torso, communicating in a way only twins could before slowly releasing her waist. With her living corset gone, Sigh took a deep breath.

'Sorry 'bout that,' the young man had remained silent and forgotten until he spoke again, startling her from the curious staring contest she had started with the twins. Both teams had been trying to pick the other apart in the friendliest way possible, and Sigh marveled at the citrus shades of their auras. It reminded her of the ice cream Leroy would sometimes buy, with bright, sweet orange entwining with tart, glowing lemon. 'Believe it or not, they don't usually tackle people.' The boy gave a small chuckle, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. 'You sure handled it though.' Sigh shrugged abashedly.

'I've worked with kids before.' True. Some of the dancers from Forbidden fantasy would ask her to watch their little ones during practice. All children were different in personality but the same naïve need to be accepted held true. If she had simply shoved away the siblings and their embrace it probably would have made the entire situation the much more unpleasant. She didn't say all this though, choosing to keep her child rearing secrets to herself.

'Really? Cool.' They stood uncomfortably for a moment.

'Oh. My name is Kirikou Rung. All my friends call me Kilik.'Sigh accepted his extended hand. 'Psyche Éclair. Sigh. You're going to ask and the answer is yes. Harvar is my cousin.' Kilik nodded, hand squeezing hers gently with a certain weariness at the mention of her family. 'Funny. You don't seem much like him.'

'Nature verses nurture, I suppose.'

'Yeah,' the cocoa eyes behind his glasses flashed with amusement, Fire and Thunder hovering at Sigh's waist to listen in on the conversation. And curl their fingers in her shirt.

'Are they your siblings?' Sigh asked, referring to the children sneakily clinging again. Her voice snapped the boy back from the faded look in his eyes, and sounded a bit desperate to keep his attention. She didn't want him to fall beneath her spell, her curse. He seemed nice, the sort of person she would rather have a sincere interaction with instead of him becoming a uselessly fawning idiot.

'I guess you could call them that. They're my weapons, but we are a bit like a family, when I think about it.'

'They seem sweet.' Sigh placed her hand on a blonde head and wrapped her fingers in the strands. 'A bit earnest with their affections, but sweet.'

'Yeah well, like I said, they're not usually like this. It's weird that they like you so fast.' Sigh shrugged, brushing a hair behind her ear. The bun that she's had before leaving her apartment was in the process of falling and her body felt greasy and dirty. The knowledge that she was filthy and mussed reminded her of her desperation in getting home, and she began to pry at the little brown fingers holding her in place. She was so embarrassed at her appearance and, very likely, _smell_, that she took a physical step back from the meister and his weapons once she had freed herself.

'It was, um, nice meeting you Fire, Thunder. Kilik.' Realizing she was trying to leave, a heavy brow lowered a bit over brown eyes. She was worried she had offended him, but the look was more of disappointment than anything else. Fire and Thunder gazed at her despondently. 'Oh, okay. Will I see you around?' Sigh smiled kindly and faltered in her retreat. 'Sure. I don't see why no-' she choked on the last of her words, startled into silence by a sudden pressure on the back of her neck. Her hand clenched around her bag's strap, Kilik looking confused as to why she had stopped talking before noticing the new arrival creeping up on her.

'Hey Kid. S'up.'

'Hello Kilik. How was Angola?'

'Awesome. I'll tell you about it later though. Fire and Thunder are sleepy.' As though on cue, the girl gave a yawn and shook her head. The little motion was mirrored by her brother soon after, as yawning is very contagious.

'Understandably. It is rather late.'

'And the jet lag is killer, man.' Death the Kid gave what could only be a teasing smirk. 'Oh? I wouldn't know.' Kilik laughed a bit. 'Whatever. Not everyone has a flying skateboard and a Grim Reaper's resilience.'

'I guess I should go,' Sigh interrupted their playful banter, her body already halfway around as she prepared to leave. 'Some of us have to be at work in the morning.' Depending on what day it was. She could have lost her job by now.

'Ah? Hold on, Sigh. I actually came here to retrieve you.' She froze, swallowing the groan in her throat. Of course he did. The foot she had lifted to step off on came down to earth with a band. Kid turned back to his African friend. 'I hope you don't mind that I'm stealing her away?' Kilik gave a little shrug, face impassive but eyes unsure. His hands disappeared into his pockets.

'No problem. Later man.' He looked at Sigh and she granted him eye contact. 'I'll see you around?' She wriggled shyly. 'Um, yeah. See you.' He nodded solemnly as though taking her words to heart and, slowly, moved to walk around her. Fire and Thunder gave her matching waves as their followed their meister.

'So,' she spoke when Kilik had disappeared around the corner, turning back to the reaper. 'What is it you wanted?' A little quiver ran through her body as she looked at him, finding that instead watching his friend leave, his burnt honey eyes were trained on her.

They absorbed everything, from the endearingly uncertain way she spoke to Kilik to her restless fingers and nervous eyes. She looked distinctly uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the hall with her hair falling into her face and her clothes hanging awry on her body. The curvature between her neck and shoulders heaved a she took a deep breath, and her hips gave a dainty swing when she returned her attention to him.

'Kid?' He didn't let it register on his face, cool headed individual that he was, but it was horribly embarrassing to be caught staring. He cleared his throat to cover any cracks. 'Yes, well, my original intention was to check on you in the nurse's office. Might I ask-'

'I wanted to go home. Is that so strange?' Sigh managed a completely innocent tone because she was truly uncertain. Perhaps it was normal here for someone to spend the night in the nurse's office. How was she to know?

Kid still looked abashed.

'No. I mean, of course not. But I guess that means I should walk you home.'

'That's not necessa-'

'I insist. We have much to talk about.'

'Really?' Sarcasm. So much it clogged the air. Kid dismissed it. 'Yes.' Sigh blew at a stubborn strand hanging in her face. He wanted to move it for her. 'Fine. But don't slow me down.' Kid's smile was amused, his hand clasped behind his back against his own nerves. 'I wouldn't think of it.'

They walked through the school in silence, Kid pretending not to notice as she pulled at her clothes and hair, trying to straighten herself out. Her eyes were still tired and her movements jerky with fatigue, the beat up designer bag she used as a purse clutched in her hand. It really had been a nice ensemble before her rather unfortunate run in with a witch, but now it was hanging in wrinkles on her body, her patent leather flats scuffed and abused.

Nevertheless. Emerald green on top of a black pencil skirt that showed how long and powerful her legs really were. A very simple, clean cut look. Although he would have preferred her hair down in order to actuate her wide eyes and gently beautiful face.

He frowned at his train of thought, ashamed to be caught in her sway once again

There was a purpose to his offering to walk her home, and it did not including fawning over her wardrobe choices.

He thought it would be appropriate to thank her for attempting to protect his weapon. When he had finally arrived on the scene, panic written on his face and a silent Patty in her holster, he had been both shocked and relieved.

Relieved because Liz was okay. The moment he felt her soul cry for help, following the sudden spike in what could only be magic, he had been thrown into a blinding urgency, pushing him forward faster and faster until he was certain his skateboard was out flying a jet that shot through the air miles above.

Shocked because now the elder pistol was the panicking one, a very unconscious Sigh on her lap. 'OhmyGodKid,' her words were running together, sloshing into one another as she tried to explain what happened. '-' he patted the young woman's shoulder as he passed her, Patty transforming to comfort her sister and look into the face of the sleeping girl on her lap.

It wasn't that Kid didn't care. On the contrary, he cared quite a bit that his weapon had almost been killed by a witch in _his father's _city under their very noses. Had Sigh not been there, they most likely would have been burying the young woman instead of just retrieving her and trying to calm her down.

Kid cared quite a bit. His shaking hands could attest to that.

But what stood before them, between the group of young women and where the witch had been, was what knocked him stupid. He heard Patty yell 'what the fuck is that?' once her sister had calmed down enough for her to revert to her childish cover.

A cactus. Maybe. It was unlike any he had ever seen in his life.

A cactus tree was a better way to describe it, a singular column leading up to a body composed of many branching off sections. It took up the entire mouth of the ally with its bulk, huddled over Liz and Sigh like a concerned mother. It wasn't green like other foliage of its family, but a soft cotton white, the spines a shimmering aquamarine. It held a glow all its own, like a miniature moon had fallen to earth and latched itself into the unforgiving sands of the deserts. As Kid reached out to touch it, to assure himself it was real, it shattered into trillions of little pieces, shaped like shards but soft like snow.

After making sure that Sigh was settled in the nurse's office and his weapons were safe at home, he attacked shibusen's library with a fervor that could only be produced by fierce fascination. What was that? What was that? What was that?

_Pachycereus weberi__. _A cactus species from Oaxaca, Mexico that grew to ridiculous sizes and possessed a shape similar to that of a tree.

But not matter how hard he looked, how deep he delved into Mexican encyclopedias, he couldn't find the exact cactus he had witnessed that night. And he knew he wouldn't. Because no plant grew in the span of a few seconds, withstood a witch's might, only to perish from the faintest of touches.

What was that?

What was _she? _He was getting tired of not knowing.

He could feel her irritation at their silence, and finally decided to speak. He thanked her. She shrugged sheepishly, claiming to have no real memory of surviving or how. He nodded sagely but offered her no information. Either she was an amazing liar or he was in for one Hell of an investigation.

'So. Liz tells me you're looking for a new job.' Sigh looked up at him in surprise, obviously shocked he would care enough to ask just what she had been doing before the attack. He wondered what sort of neglectful friends she'd had back in Las Vegas.

'Yes. I was. I lost my job at Deathbucks after,' she looked at him sideways 'well, I'm sure you know. Anyway, I found another one so it's fine.' Kid stopped walking, watching as the young woman took four more steps before turning to look back at him.

'No, actually it's not fine.' She furrowed her brow in uncertainty. 'No? Why?'

Because the more he looked, the deeper she became.

Because something was making her a target for evil creatures.

Because he needed to expose himself to her more so he would stop gawking like a simpleton.

He said none of these things.

'Because,' he stepped closer, carefully observing her zone of comfort 'I was going to offer you a position in my house.' She looked at him with wide eyes before squinting in suspicion. 'You were?'

'Yes.' The young reaper was as earnest as possible, the absolute conviction in his statement startling the girl so her armor cracked. 'O-oh. Sorry.' She looked down and away in apology, even as he mind kicked to a faster pace.

'How much?' Sigh's head twisted to look at him again. 'What?'

'How much are they paying you? I'll top it.'

'Kid-'

'Minimum wage? Slightly more?'

'I-'

'Your job wouldn't be that challenging. Cleaning, perhaps a bit of cooking.'

'But-'

'Although Patty can be a bit mischievous-'

'I don't-'

'Yes, I don't think you'll have much difficulty-'

'KID!' He raised an eyebrow at the fuming girl. 'You can't just expect me to quit when I just got the job! How does that make me look? All my hard searching will be shot to Hell.'

'Oh?' She wanted to smack that smirk off his face. 'So you _don't _want my money?' Her nasty retort froze in her throat, eyes narrowing. Damn cocky bastard. She mumbled under her breath.

'What? I didn't catch that.'

'Eight fifty an hour. Happy?'

'Then I'll pay you thirteen. Over fifty percent more.' Sigh gaped, waiting for the punch line. He just looked at her with nothing but solemnity on his face. 'You're serious?'

'Okay then. Sixteen.'

'Kid-'

'Eighteen?'

'Stop! Geez. I'll do it already.'

Of all the things she was expecting, it wasn't the look of absolute jubilation that appeared on his face, just below the mask of calm he always wore.

'Good. You're quite the bargainer Sigh.' She snorted, reverting back to herself when that flash of joy on his face faded. What had she been staring at anyway? A bratty kid getting what he wanted just as he probably had his entire life. 'Whatever. If anyone asks I'm just going to say you're a sucker.' He hummed. 'If you want.'

They walked the rest of the way to her apartment in relative silence, only participating in surface topics such as the weather and rugby. Apparently Kid was a fan, although of Sigh's rival team. She playfully called him out on the team members, mocking them nastily. He seemed a bit flustered by this, breaking his professional demeanor for the second time in order to protest 'he broke his _leg _Psyche! What did you expect him to do?'"


	8. Chapter 8

**BB says: **Of all my fanfiction, this one takes me the longest to update. I guess because I think so deep into the storyline? Or the characters? Or both? Oh well. Let's get this party started!

**Rating: **Teen

**Disclaimer: **I own no part of _Soul Eater, _anime, manga, or merchandise.

"It is in a village for the retired that knowledge can be found, as those who have lived extensive lives are wont to share their knowledge. They sit in thrones of wicker and hemp, dressed in robes of cotton and polyester with crowns of wispy white on their heads. Their servants bring them feasts of mush and pills as they contemplate their final years, awaiting the families that locked them away.

Among them, some time ago, was a man, the oldest and most solitary of the group. He had seen much in his years, in his travels, for he was a chronicler of the unknown, an explorer who had witnessed the little niches the world had to offer. The rumor was that it had been this very knowledge that kept him alive so long, that he had discovered the secret of immortality (if not eternal youth) and he would be here forever. He had already been there thirty years, his bills paid not by a family he didn't have, but a foreign account he had compiled years before.

Live alone, die alone; he had admitted himself to this place.

He didn't have much time left, despite the gossip that had spread. He hadn't expected to live this long, he had come here the first year hoping to die. Fate had a tendency of mocking him, however, and he was forced to waste away _slowly_, never permitted the unpretentious end that came in the depths of night. First his eyes, then his ears, then his legs, his lungs, and, finally, his mind. A week before he was finally free of his mortal shell, orderlies could hear mumbling from his room. It was apparently a story he had told no one else, an expedition where he had returned the only survivor. And though it had been a terrible situation when it occurred, the young people who ran the village weren't quite sure of what he spoke.

'The biggest discovery ever made!' the dry, timeworn voice would proclaim in the shadows of the room. 'And those fools refused to listen. They knew not what they had done. Their greed was their undoing. It wasn't my fault that I knew not to approach. I knew. I knew…'

And at last, the final day, in came a curious young man. He had wanted to be a nurse his whole life, and had scored an internship at the village for a bit of time. He was the one to sit at the senile old man's bedside on day, to make his final hours easier. With sudden clarity of voice and mind, the former explorer gripped his last link to life. 'I knew…'

'You knew what?' the volunteer orderly asked, placing one of his warm hands on the old man's chilled knuckles. 'I knew…it was dangerous. So very beautiful. But the danger was too great.'

'Too great?' the younger man looked into the elder's eyes, having the sinking feeling the man didn't have long left.

'Too great. I could _feel _it, the moment we stumbled upon it.'

'What was it?' The old man gasped, eyes widening. The youth at his side panicked for a brief moment, thinking he had killed the poor man.

'A tree.' The heavy old brow wrinkled. 'No. A tree standing where a tree had no business being. A tree made of _diamonds_.' And the orderly finally believed that the man had gone mad. He didn't speak his thoughts aloud, however, granting the dying man his final tale.

'So beautiful. So _valuable. _Even I was tempted. But it wasn't natural. It wasn't rooted into the ground. A single man could lift it. It stunk of magic and power. Deadly. And I told the others. But they insisted on taking it with us. So we would live as…kings' he sneered the last word 'like they believed we would live after disturbing something like that. Like they believed we could…live…

They had barely lifted it when it shattered into pieces. We were bathed in light and snow for a moment, blinded, and when we could see again, the tree was gone. In its place lay a…child. And a necklace...the child was as naked as the day she was born. The necklace was ancient looking, and appeared to be…gold.

It was…was a test of morality, perhaps,' a bitter smile formed on a wrinkled face 'because even as I moved to cover the child, one of my men lunged for the trinket. It ended then. He went mad. Before we could even realize what was happening, he had struck out with his knife, killing one of the others with strength beyond humans. One by one, they were felled by their ally…the bauble was clenched in his fist. I could only watch, clinging the child to my chest, as he devoured their souls and turned to me.

And the child…the girl came to life. I didn't stop her as she leapt at the man turned monster. And she…drove her fingers through his throat,' the old man swallowed 'and he kept coming. With his…head hanging from his ruined neck. I could only watch…I knew…and she ripped its arm from its body, taking the necklace. It burned her, and escaped when she dropped it. It screeched and flew to the east. The girl fell. And though I knew she was a monster, I moved to her.' The old man's breath rattled in his chest.

'She looked at me and asked who she was. Asked _me, _like I had the slightest idea of what I had found.' His laughter became coughs. The orderly gave him water. 'So I took her. She had no name, and I offered her none. She never asked. We travelled for a time, became friends. She never aged, and had a terrifying intelligence about her. Older than her body. I was kind to her, and she returned the favor. But one day, after a terrible flood, she vanished. I believed her to be dead. Until…until,' a shaky hand pointed to the far wall, a diagram of newspaper articles.

'And I knew she lived. And I hired a detective. And…I know where she is now…' a faded look appeared on the old man's face 'she's safe…at the moment. Safe. And she still looks so young…' with that last bit of breath, the old man closed his eyes. Otto Ford screamed for assistance when waking the old timer proved useless.

His death went unnoticed in Death City, Nevada. The skeleton key (no pun intended) Sigh's new employer had given her fit quite snuggly into the eight foot fence defending the property, and Sigh eased the sliver of metal back into her pocket before proceeding. Although she was supposed to be at work by eight, Kid had phoned her late the previous night in the throes of some sort of episode. Her new time became eleven, because it was both symmetrical and gave him a chance to 'prepare for her', whatever that meant. Sigh didn't care as long as she got her paycheck.

The path to the front door was unnecessarily crooked, gallows lining the black and white cobble stones that seemed firmly set in the ground. The young woman almost felt as though she was in the middle of an old black and white horror flick, expecting a poorly costumed beast to lunge out of the shadows that seemed to lurk about the property.

It was either the largest mansion she had ever seen or the smallest castle. It was black, as to be expected, with bone white adornments and arching windows. It appeared to have been adapted in the same way as Shibusen, symmetrical and somewhat rounded, with bits of gold detailing here and there. The large door was made of ebony wood and boasted a large gold knocker in the shape of a skull, perfectly matching the large gold doorknob. Sigh gave the two hard knocks and rang the bell.

_Kill-kong._

After a few seconds, she tried again.

_Kill-kong._

Huffing indignantly, she slid her key into the lock and pushed the door open.

All was quiet, lulling her irritation into curiosity as she stepped onto the black and white tiles. 'Hello? Anybody home?' Her call echoed off the high ceiling in the foyer, dancing around the huge chandelier. 'Hey?' No response. The young woman dared to enter farther, noticing a small black table to the side of the door. A little slip of paper had been stuck to its surface.

_Sigh,_

_Had 2 go on mission. B bck in a few days. Sry. Good luck._

_Liz _

Crumpling the note, she set to work.

The first place to start, as she would have had she still been working at Forbidden Fantasy, was the kitchen. Kid kept a pretty clean residence, and she supposed her job pertained more to maintaining the current state rather than improving upon it.

Securing her scarf and wondering at the miniature giraffes made of lunch meat and tooth picks, Sigh buzzed about the massive kitchen, noting how it could swallow her den and bedroom while still devouring her bathroom for dessert. She took inventory of what the kitchen had to offer, noting how all fresh vegetables and fruit were gone. It was an indicator that her employer would be gone a while; why leave the fruit to go bad in his absence? The young woman sighed and closed the refrigerator (which was big enough to fit a body into) suddenly overwhelmed by her new duties and the fact that she was completely alone.

Breathe. Yes, this was bigger than anything she had ever been in charge of before and yes, her boss was particularly picky and would probably run a white glove over _everything _the moment he returned. And it would be all too easy to destroy their fragile…acquaintance if he were to break down over a speck of dust. It was time to organize.

Downstairs first. That only made sense. Depending on the state of the first level rooms she may be able to move to the second floor. A third floor would definitely have to wait until later in the week. And she supposed it wouldn't be presumptuous to assume there was a fourth floor too. Maybe even a basement. And each level held its own nooks and crannies, corners and niches were dust and debris gathered.

She set to work, surprised when no unexpected creepy crawlies appeared from the floor boards. For the home of grim reapers, it was surprisingly normal (or as normal as mansions could be). She quickly vanished into her own thoughts, waxing and dusting and sweeping and polishing in the way that she used to when she was still welcome in the family business. She allowed herself to think of her mother, whether the woman had yet hired someone to fill the void left from Sigh.

And then the young woman felt a pang of extreme offense. Was she truly so easy to replace? And, if so, how dare Madame do so? And even if she was allowed to go home someday, would she even have a place to go home to? She had been shunning Madame for months now, what was once based on fury quickly molding itself into fear. It was entirely possible that Madame had stopped accommodating her daughter's fit, and had moved into her own phase of anger. Perhaps it was at the point where she was done with the girl, and settled in the fact that she no long had to deal with her.

And though the nature of mother-daughter relationships protested otherwise, Sigh still feared rejection from the person she loved the most.

Fine.

She would call and leave a message.

If the woman picked up, Sigh would throw her phone out the window.

The day flew by without her realizing it, although she never had the chance to scope out the entire house. She was much too tired. For though it was very tidy, it wasn't the professional clean she had been doing her entire life. Due to her work, the fridge was now organized, the pans arranged by size, and the floors were waxed...twice.

The next day was much the same, and she wasn't too surprised to find the bedrooms on the second floor. Liz and Patti's chambers were easy to distinguish from the numerous guest quarters and storage rooms surrounding her, each of the Brooklyn sisters having ample time to redesign her own quarters per her tastes. Sigh assumed Liz had the room with the posters of bands and sexy movies stars, a vanity littered with nail polish, make-up, and magazines standing near a closet deep enough to become lost in. The walls were a sky blue and the bed was a full with a duvet of deep, romantic red.

Patti's room was very nearly juvenile, with powder pink walls and a great number of stuffed animals –primarily giraffes and zebras- in piles about the room. Crayons, paint, and play clay littered a white desk, hand prints of various colors on the pristine glow of a dresser with the drawers pulled out. Patti had a closet comparable to her sister's but much messier; many of the clothes were lying in a pile on her sunny yellow sheets. Sigh hummed in amusement, as she could expect nothing less of the younger Thompson.

Sigh only hesitated when she came up upon two locked rooms with large, ebony wood doors and bronze knobs. They stood out from their stark white surroundings, but were in lovely accordance to the overall theme of the home. The rooms of Lord Death and Death the Kid, respectively.

Third day, and though there was indeed a basement (very large and very creepy but the only room in possession of a washer and dryer) no third floor existed in the large household. No matter. The mansion was more wide than tall, and though she had already cleaned heavily trafficked areas on both the first and second floors, she had yet to finish the laundry. And the bathrooms. And she would need to dust again; sand always found its way into desert homes. She clucked her teeth. Perhaps she had underestimated this job. She was very sore, as even the most mundane chores can be taxing when continued, and the vastness of the residence had ceased producing the awe that had once entertained her.

It was on the fourth day Sigh's employer finally returned, and at a rather inopportune time. It was one of her sillier moments, when the large, empty silence became too much for her, though she had begun to bring a radio to fill the void. One her favorite songs, a guilty pleasure of techno and bubble gum that she wasn't fond of sharing, flickered on. And she began to dance. Right there, in the foyer, the mop clutched in her hands as she spun on the chessboard tiles. Her body was receptive to the extra movement added to her now average routine, having missed the swinging steps she had indulged in while working at Forbidden Fantasy.

It had been a long time since she had had an opportunity to just _move _like this, even longer since she had had the space. Her body was demanding she make up for lost time, its amateur dancing skills bleeding into one another as she flowed from one song into the next. The music bounced off the tall ceiling and walls and echoed through her muscles, the chandelier above jingling gently from the base. She kept the beat as she climbed the gracefully wound stairway and, with a large flourish, turned to slide down the banister.

She was about halfway down when the large aura assaulted her, shocking her from her euphoria and causing her to land, ungracefully and somewhat painfully, on her bottom at the base of the staircase.

Death the Kid stood in the doorway, dusty from the desert air. He had flown through a sand storm and his normally precision styled hair was standing haphazardly on his head. Liz and Patti flanked him, the latter giggling softly as the former cracked her back. Being in weapon form for an extended period can be highly uncomfortable.

The mission had actually been a simply one, or at least appeared as such, so Kid had been confused as to why his father personally requested he look into it. From the looks of the file he had been given, it was a simple case of homicide, a well known (and incredibly disappointing) aspect of humanity. A person didn't have to be an aspiring kishin to kill their neighbor. But Kid wasn't one to refuse a mission specifically given to him by Lord Death, and though he thought it was unlikely either Liz or Patti would be getting any souls, he left for California.

It was only an hour trip on beezlebub anyway.

The house was in a rural area, standing out not only for its lack of neighbors, but also the police tape draped around the entire property. Multiple vehicles were parked in front, holding detectives, forensic scientists, and a number of police. Kid flashed his Shibusen ID and, with a few suspicious looks thrown his way, was allowed into the crime scene.

It was rather disturbing. The home had been owned by an elderly couple, respectable members of the town who, even in their old age, still cared greatly about the world surrounding them. Up to date newspapers and magazines lay amongst the broken crystal and scattered belongings. The window was broken, the furniture overturned, and most of the pictures that had once been on the wall were lying in cracked frames.

And there, against the far wall of the living room, were the chalky outlines of an elderly couple. One body was drawn on top of the other, and Kid could only assume it meant the man was trying to protect his wife.

It made Kid sick. But more than that, more than the fact that some monster had decided to end the lives of innocents before their time, was the complete lack of presence in the home. Kid had been on murder scenes before. As the son of death, he was very aware of nearly every form of death there was. It was the less glamorous, grittier nature of being a grim reaper, a part that he hadn't even allowed his own weapons to witness yet.

When a person is murdered or dies unexpectedly, their spirit has a tendency to hang around the scene of the crime. They still can't identify with the fact they are dead, and most cannot do so for at least a few days. The couple should still be in the air, their souls' wavelengths faint and dispersed, but present. So when Kid arrived on this still fresh crime scene, he expected to feel the hovering of the victims' spirits. And crinkled his brow when he didn't.

'Kid?' Liz asked hesitantly when her meister had been silent for a time. She and Patti had remained in weapon form to keep the traffic low on the crime scene. 'Is something the matter?' The young reaper turned to leave the house, having all the information he needed. 'Yes. I think we have a rather difficult mission on our hands.' There were no other cases of missing persons or homicide in recent days, the small town having a reputation for quiet and usually living up to the rumors. This was the first murder they'd had in years, the former murderer being caught within days.

The reaper and his scythes spent the next few days investigating, trying to come up with some clues as to what made this particular kishin egg so…different. It seemed as though every lead hit a dead end. He was forced to think back to his father's briefing on the issue.

'The man's name was Harold Whittington. Age thirty-five and manager of a small furniture store in Northridge. He was single, having recently broken up with his fiancée of three years.'

'And he became a kishin over time? In order to compensate for the heartbreak?' Death had bounced a bit contemplatively. 'Not quite. You see, we didn't hunt him down as much as he hunted _us. _And promptly turned himself in.' Kid's eyes widened. 'What do you mean he turned himself in?'

'Exactly what I said. He gave himself in to the nearest Death Scythe he could find, two states over. Who happened to be one Madame Anaise Éclair.'

'Sigh's mother,' the younger reaper whispered in wonder. What were the chances…? 'Which is how the case came to my attention,' continued Lord Death 'the man walked into Madame Éclair's business and threw himself at her mercy, confessed all his crimes. And of course Madame was prompted to kill him. But he died before she had the chance. Shriveled up like a raisin before she could get any more information out of him.'

'Like his soul was sucked out.'

'Precisely!' Lord Death's gushing voice seemed horribly out of place. 'And I fear we are only recently tuning into a disaster that's been in the works for a considerable amount of time. '

The young reaper's tourmaline eyes widened a fraction as he was snapped back to the present by Sigh hustling up from the floor. It was silent for a moment as they studied each other, the tension mounting in the air as he searched for something to say and she glanced away in embarrassment. Of all times, he just had to return in one of her few unprofessional moments. Why couldn't he have walked in while she mopped? Or folded clothes? Or cooked?

After a few awkward, eternal, seconds, Liz sighed and stalked forward. She had decided she couldn't stand this any longer and mumbled something about a shower. Patti followed, chanting about rubber ducks. Sigh granted them shy smiles as they passed her, feeling Kid's fiery gaze flicker as his weapons left.

_Alright,_ she told herself as her anxiety was replaced with irritation_, if he must fire me, he must fire me. But I refuse to suffer this silence any longer! What is he thinking?_

'Can I help you with something?' Kid frowned at the question, running a hand through his hair. Sigh wanted to point out that the action only served to make the disarray worse.

'I live here, Sigh. I think I should be allowed to return home when I see fit.' The young woman shrugged. 'Alright. But don't get in my way. I've got a nice flow going, so-'

'What is that?' his voice was low and sincerely curious. Sigh raised an eyebrow at the interruption.

'What is what?' The reaper twitched, coming to stand before her with seven strides of his lanky legs. Sigh had to resist jerking back in shock and uncertainty as a long white finger poked her in the center of the head. It took her half a second to realize it was resting on her scarf.

'It's called a scarf, Duke Dim-Bulb,' she snarled in good-humor, gently pulling away. The reaper raised an eyebrow as though that didn't suffice for an answer.

'And why are you wearing it?' Sigh frown in confusion.

'Because I want to. You never said I couldn't.' Kid's mouth twitched in a downward motion. 'I didn't think you'd wear one outside of dusting.' Sigh scowled. 'And what's wrong with wearing one casually?'

'You're not wearing it neatly, that's what's wrong. You hair is escaping at all angles; I can't tell if you're trying to tame it or obtain mussed hair.'

'There's no neat way to wear a scarf. What do you want me to do, iron it before I get here?'

'And speaking of ironing, did you even prepare yourself for your first day? That is hardly the appropriate ensemble for this position.' Sigh felt herself puffing up in annoyance, her nostrils flaring. What was wrong with her outfit? She was just cleaning a house, for goodness sake, not escorting him to a ball! Really, what did he want?

'What the Hell are you talking about? I look fine!' Her young employer shook his head vehemently.

'No you don't! Any self-respecting house keeper would shirk at the idea of wearing jeans on the job! I assumed you knew you would need a maid uniform.' Sigh twitched at the mention of a uniform.

'Oh, so you're a closet pervert, huh? Want me to strut around in a French maid's costume? Bend down so you can see when I'm not wearing underwear?' She shot him a sarcastically lewd look and crossed her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up.

'Don't flatter yourself!' Damn it, he really hoped she didn't see his unwanted blush. 'I merely want you to dress like a lady while working for me!'

'Well then fire me now, 'cause I'm not going to put on my Sunday best to get down on my knees and clean!' A look of entrapment flickered across Kid's face, and he shut his mouth on his next comment. Smelling victory, Sigh sneered. 'Well? Can me already! Considering I refuse to dress like a harlot and you can't bear to look at me!'

'I didn't say that!'

'You implied it!'

'What? No I didn't!'

'Uh, yeah, you did!' Realizing he wasn't going to win this argument, Kid took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Sigh had crossed her arms tighter and was pouting when he looked at her again, barely concealed upset in her eyes. Had he mistakenly tread upon insecurity? The thought served to calm him, if only minutely.

Although Sigh had dressed casually without even attempting to impress anybody, she still thought she looked okay. And she didn't like to be questioned.

Although Kid had merely questioned her choice through professionalism, Sigh heard an insult.

'Okay, let's calm down and start over. Okay?' Sigh shrugged stiffly, avoiding the reaper's eyes. This irritated him; why couldn't see respect him enough to look him in the eye? 'Okay, Psyche?'

'Fine.'

'Good.' Kid took a step back in order to physically disengage from the altercation. Sigh shuffled a bit as though unsure what to do next. 'So…since you haven't been here I couldn't ask you about your preferences before I began,' although her voice was apathetic her eyes were uncertain. 'Do you have any adjustments to make? Any particular vices I should know about?' The boy suddenly looked as though he was fighting with himself, choking on his own words as he swallowed thickly. There a panicked look in his eyes, as though he was about to succumb to what Liz had described as 'self-induced, situational, madness'.

Psyche just called it OCD.

'No,' he forced out 'not really.' Sigh raised an eyebrow. 'Not _really_?' Kid sighed, gaze flickering to and from the girl before him. Her arms had come uncrossed and her fury seemed to have been quelled, replaced by a certain curiosity as to what could possibly be awaiting her in the home of death.

'I mean, my former maid was very good at her job. Not to say you won't be, just that it may take me a while to become accustomed to the differences. It's nothing personal, you see.' Sigh nodded slowly, carefully, folding her hands behind her back. 'I mean,' and now he was rambling. He could hear it but couldn't stop himself 'she was very used to who I was and my…hang-ups. She would keep things very neat and even and symmetrical…not to say you have to, because I no longer find myself panicking over slight details. I just, as I've said, need to get used to you.' Sigh nodded again.

'Yes Kid, I get it.'

'Oh. Alright.' They looked at each other for a moment longer, neither of them needing to say more and yet uncertain of how to dismiss each other. Kid seemed to remember something, a light flickering in his eyes. 'Wait here a moment.' He returned with a bolt of bright pink material. As he lifted and shook out the fabric, Sigh recognized it as an apron.

She only stiffened slightly as he slipped the strap around her neck, his hands wrapping around her waist in a near embrace. She stopped breathing at the feel of his arms on either side of her, his aura surrounding her own with the sudden, crashing force of a tsunami. The strength in his body alarmed her, his lithe frame housing more power then she had predicted from sight alone. He smelled of cool, dry air, like the scent of autumn and early winter as she was pushed towards him unconsciously. She wasn't sure if her sigh was from relief or anticipation when he finally stepped away.

'A compromise? This way you can protect whatever you decide to wear while holding the appearance of a maid.'

'Yeah. Right.' She adjusted it so it would lie more comfortably on her body. It wasn't necessarily her style, pink and frilled as it was, and she wondered if it was an artifact left from Kid's last maid.

'I suppose I should make dinner. Is there anything you want?' she asked, moving to enter the kitchen. Kid thought for a moment, never taking his eyes off the girl's retreating form. The look on her face as she visibly calmed, as her harsh, pointed words dulled, was instinctually revered to him. He shook the thought away. 'Yes,' the boy said with dry humor 'I could use a shower.'

Sigh granted him an amused look. 'Yeah. I guess you could. But that's not in my department, Young Master.' And although he had intended to retreat to the comfort of his chambers, Kid was pulled along on her smile. It was sincere and subtle, and simply too sweet to allow to slip by.

He leaned on the island in the middle of the kitchen without quite recalling how he got there. He could feel the grit on his body, the sand in his hair, and it was driving him mad. But he wasn't yet pleased with how their interaction had concluded. Perhaps he sought a more finite end, something that would pose him in a more pleasant light and help her forget that he had been stunned to silence at the sight of her in his home.

When he was the one who hired her.

He must have looked like an idiot. The reaper sighed quietly and watched as Sigh went through the refrigerator and pantries, collecting ingredients. It looked as though she was making pasta. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he thought about it. He hadn't really taken a lunch break that day considering all that he had been concerned with…

'Have you spoken with your mother lately?' Kid immediately regretted the question as her back stiffened violently and her head whipped around to face him. Illogical fear rose in him from the heat in her eyes. 'What?'

Nothing to be lost at this point. 'I asked if you had-'

'That's none of your business!'

'I know, I-'

'My personal life remains out of your reach, got it? What more do you want from me? I'm already here in your city under the oh-so-careful gaze of your oh-so-gracious father. You've already got me under your thumb and just where you want me. Why the Hell would you be sticking your long nose any farther?'

'I-'

'It's not like there's anything wrong with not speaking to Madame for months on end! I'm sure she's fine and she probably doesn't even care that I haven't contacted her! She's probably grateful I'm gone and replaced me long ago! And I don't care! Why should I? Why the Hell should it matter to me what that crazy old harpy does anyway? It's none of my goddamn business. Why can't you just leave well enough alone?' She screwed her eyes shut against tears, unsure if she was questioning herself or Kid. 'Damn it all. I was the best daughter _ever._ And she gave _me _away. I would never have left her…why should I feel bad? I didn't do _anything _wrong. Why should I feel so bad?'

The kitchen grew silent. Breathing deep and counting to ten, Sigh turned from the startled look on Kid's face. Shame and humiliation settled upon her shoulders, noting how wide his sunflower eyes had gone and the distinct look of apprehension on his face. The image coupled with his mussed hair to make the reaper look like quite the victim. He must have thought she was crazy. Odd.

_Just like everyone else._

'I'm sorry. It's just…that's a sensitive topic okay? Just…I have some stuff to work out. And I don't want to talk about it right now. I didn't mean to…you didn't deserve that.' Kid was silent a moment longer, noting the slouch of her shoulders and the stiff nature of her voice. Homesick. There was a deep pit of helpless guilt in his stomach, wrapped in a crispy shell of pity.

'Alright,' he murmured, ignoring the hand that flew to wipe a misting eye. She most likely hadn't meant him to see. 'I'm sorry.'

'Idiot. You can't apologize when I just did.' Kid smiled gently. 'Oh, and I suppose you own the rights to condolences now?'

'I've staked claim,' she quipped. He chuckled graciously, hands toying with the pepper grinder in front of him. 'How was your mission?' He looked up at her voice and calmly organized his words to grant her information without revealing too much.

'More stressful than I would have liked.' Sigh turned on the stove and dug out a pan, eager to move past her moment of weakness. 'Oh? How so?'

'I assumed it was a simple case of homicide. I even had the nerve to be slightly offended at being called upon for such a thing.'

'Few things are as we make them out to be.' Kid gave a sigh. 'Agreed. I'm afraid what once was a disgusting slaughter of the elderly has grown into a rather complicated puzzle.' Digesting his words, the young woman withdrew a chopping board to begin on the onions and mushrooms. Kid felt a tickle of amusement; she was here a few days and already treating it like she owned the place. 'Just how complicated? Too complicated to share the extensive details with your maid, I'm assuming. Although, from the look you gave me when you returned home, I think it may have something to do with me.' Damn. Kid shook his head, attempting to provide damage control. 'No. That's not-'

'I can tell when people are lying to me.' It was true. Their auras would contract slightly, curling in as though trying to hide. And though his was bigger and thicker and _blacker _than any she had seen, it still behaved like any other aura. It still recoiled at the untruth.

Irritation and guilt inched into the young reaper's brow. 'I only lie out of necessity.'

'No lies are necessary ones. That's just an excuse.'

'And one you shall have to deal with it if you want to hear the rest.' It was nearly possible to hear the gears turning in Sigh's head as she rolled over his words. She couldn't help him solve the problem if he refused to give her all the required information, but the fact he refused to tell the complete truth reeked of the obvious. He was investigating something of relevance to her. And it was horribly disrespectful to do something without her permission. But if she wanted to know more, even the tiniest details, she would have to be agreeable.

'Fine,' she grumped 'what can you tell me then?' Kid's face was still furrowed.

Sigh tossed spaghetti into boiling water.

'Until further notice, I can only say that my father has assigned agents to monitor suspicious activity near the crime scene.'

'Oh? So your mission was only one of surveillance?' Kid snorted. 'Of course not. As a reaper, I was sent out to investigate the odd circumstances surrounding the case and the guilty party.'

'A kishin?'

'It would seem that way but…it wasn't.'

'Then what?' Kid hesitated. 'I'm not sure. I would have stayed out in the field longer, but my father called me home.'

'Why?'

'I assume it was because-' because he felt that Kid should be in the city, keeping an eye on their guest. Why Lord Death had suddenly deemed it urgent to do so was beyond Kid, but he didn't believe it was right to tell the young woman before him she was still under suspicion.

'Because?' Sigh coaxed after a moment of Kid going quiet. He waved away the question and avoided her suspicious moonstone gaze. 'It doesn't matter. All that matters now is that we investigate the man's former life. We have to find out why the kishin chose that elderly couple out of all the citizens of Avery.' Sigh cocked her head. 'Avery?' Kid nodded. 'Avery, California.'

For some reason, the young woman froze in her actions. His words had caused a minor bit of discomfort in the back of her skull, a heavy pressure that quickly gave way to what could only be nostalgia, a memory she wasn't quite sure she had.

_They took her hand and embraced her, assuring her that they would help her find a place. A safe place. They hoped to find it, to be it, to keep her safe. But it wasn't to be. She couldn't stop. She couldn't remember why…but this wasn't the place, and until she found that place she couldn't stop. Bad things happened when she stopped._

'Sigh?' Kid was granting her an odd, somewhat concerned look 'are you alright?' She shook her head, strangely breathless. 'I…yes. I'm fine. Just a bit of a headache.' She pulled herself away from the fog. 'Dinner should be done soon; go take your shower while you can.' Her thoughts had a frizzy, tart edge.

'Alright,' Kid looked hesitant 'are you sure you're feeling well?' She actually had a sense of vertigo winding through her system, but smiled in a sheepish, reassuring manner. 'I'm fine.' The reaper tried to discern the truth but, finding himself unable to do so, was forced to believe her. He carefully looked at the young woman in his kitchen. Clothed in a pink apron, violet hair escaping at all angles from her faded scarf. She stood directly beneath the light and was bathed in a golden glow, accenting the regal bones of her face and the intelligent shimmer in her silvery eyes that was somehow both guarded and terribly vulnerable. He could still see her soul, its eccentricities wonderful and beautiful and _mocking him_ with its perfection.

Tearing himself away, Death the Kid retreated."

The narrator nodded and began gathering her things to leave. That was enough for today, in her opinion. Her stomach was feeling a bit queasy and her back was aching; she turned to dismiss her audience, but was interrupted by a unified wave of disapproval.

"That's it?"

"Aw! Come on!"

"A little more! You haven't been here for days!" And on and on, the children quite comfortable voicing their agitation and keeping their entertainment from wandering off. The storyteller sighed, reclaiming her seat. "Fine. Shut up." She took a breath.

"A visitor was at Sigh's door a few mornings later, very nearly startling her to death.

She was, coincidentally, finishing her morning routine, toothbrush in her mouth and shoe in hand as she passed the door casually. The aura seeped into the room before the three knocks were heard, and it was so unexpected she jumped a bit.

Kilik brought up a hand in greetings. 'Hi Sigh. What's up?' Sigh cocked her head to the side, trying to talk around the toothbrush in her mouth. It didn't work. So she held up a finger to ask for a moment.

After rinsing her mouth and grabbing her bag, she joined the boy.

'Hello, Kilik. How have you been?' She questioned politely. The African boy shrugged. 'Alright. Still alive, ain't I?' Sigh smiled. 'Of course. I only asked because that's what you're supposed to do when you haven't seen someone in a while.'

'Personally, I thought you had forgotten about me.'

'Is that an insult to me or to you?'

'Take it either way.' Kilik gave a little chuckle, joining the girl in the elevator.

'So why are you here?' While she was happy to see the friendly meister again, she couldn't resist the little ball of suspicion gnawing at the back of her throat. A ball that demanded to know just how he knew where she lived and why he had shown up at seven thirty in the morning. It was sort of creepy, really, and nearly smelled of stalker. But since she didn't get such taint reflecting from the young man's smooth caramel colored aura, she gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Kilik shoved his hands in his pockets, not seeing the point in avoiding the truth. 'I'm doing Lord Death a favor.' Sigh's heart gave a nervous twist. 'Are you now?' Kilik shrugged. 'He asked to see you and I happened to be in the area. I have a mission later this morning, anyway.' The girl pursed her lips in agitation, because irritation was easier to face than the concern in her gut.

There was too broad a spectrum of possibilities this meeting could mean, too many different ways it could be detrimental. As though sensing the young woman's discomfort, Kilik spoke in surprise. 'Hey. You nervous?' Sigh gave a sheepish smile but couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes. After so long in Death City, she had begun to feel a pulse deep in the streets, little flurries of the reaper's aura caught and blown about by the wind. It had made her immune to the size and depth of Lord Death's essence, but there was still the overbearing potential power held within the fearsome reaper.

And the fact that her fate was very possibly teetered in his large white hands.

She was not looking forward to seeing him. That fact remained a constant.

'Hey, no worries. He's a really nice guy. He just wants to talk to you.' She tried to make her smile more sincere at his attempt to comfort her. 'You think so, huh?' He nodded and grinned. 'I know it. He wasn't speaking seriously at all. He said you owed him a visit.'

'Is that it?' Sigh twitched and glanced away. Agitation. Anger. She could deal with those. 'I mean, here I was, getting all concerned because he got an escort to come and retrieve me, when all he wants is a bit of attention? Honestly. Couldn't he have just called?' Not that she wanted him popping up on a random mirror. 'This reeks of abandonment issues. He never told me I would have to check in with him. He's lucky I was already up because I do _not _like being woken up for such petty reasons.' Sigh snorted and began mumbling to herself. 'He wanted a visit. The nerve. He knows where I am! He gave me the damn apartment…'

Kilik was silent a moment, once again wondering just who this girl was. Why his earth shaman weapons loved her so much and Lord Death himself had requested an audience. He could feel it, in a way, a strange something that wasn't quite normal about her.

Her odd colored hair supported the theory that she was another witch Lord Death had welcomed, another misfit who couldn't quite blend into the destructive world of her fellows. The air tasted slightly metallic with a sprinkling of magic, like her very existence was a constant dance of spells and enchantments. He could honestly say there was some sort of misplacement about her; like she was on another plane, merely passing by on a whim.

He had the same feeling around Lord Death and, to a lesser extent, Kid.

He watched the swing of her hair on her neck.

She seemed to be nice enough, and his weapons liked her (they would be upset when they found out he had met her without them), his guard was already on the alert the moment her magic hit him in the face. He instinctually resisted the pull that seemed to radiate off her, even if it felt quite a bit like tearing himself in two, at the time. It was better now, he realized. Although she was still strikingly, breathtakingly, _hot, _he maintained his train of thought easier.

'Kirikou Rung,' he heard her murmur, looking at her as though hearing her for the first time. They had been walking in silence for quite a while; the school was little more than five minutes away. 'Kirikou. You wouldn't happen to be named after the character, would you? You know, from that African folktale _Kirikou and the Sorceress_?' Kilik was surprised. 'Yeah. Not many people know that.' Sigh shrugged with a small smile. 'I read a lot. And you don't meet very many Kirikous on the street.'

'Psyche's not really very common either.'

'And the name has a history as well,' she looked about and, finding what she was looking for, turned back to her companion.

'Can we stop for breakfast, Kilik? I've been craving an apple muffin all week. I can buy you something too, if you like.' Kilik smirked and agreed watching her jog into the bakery.

He hoped the rumors weren't true. That she was an intended bride for Death the Kid.

Up ahead, in the office of Lord Death, the reaper pondered his next move. While he was certain he wanted to share his new information with Psyche, he was unsure of how she would respond. Anaise had apparently taught the girl a certain reverence for privacy and she was bound to be…_upset _that he had been digging through her life without permission to do so. Regardless of his intentions, one could not ignore the fact that he could have easily stumbled upon private information, information that she would want to keep from prying eyes. In a way, he supposed that was why he was doing all this digging. To find something, naughty or otherwise, that would hint at her existence. Hint at what manner of creature she could be.

Lord Death had made a certain call several nights previous, after Spirit had gone home. Three mirrors stood before him and, with no small amount of caution, he had contacted his old friends.

The first to appear was a little old man, narrowed eyes taken by cataracts and a scar marking the left side of his face. His bald head was freckled with liver spots and a massive grey beard sat beneath his large red nose.

The second mirror held three figures, women all, dressed in the latest fashions. Each one –a blonde, a red head, and a brunette- had deep ray skin and heavy sunglasses, ruby lips pursing as they appeared. A large glowing sphere hovered above them, containing a smaller circle that zeroed in on Death. Their eye.

The third mirror held a young looking man with wind-blown blonde hair. There was a friendly smile beneath his beard, his inhumanly blue eyes sparking with mischief. They betrayed the wisdom and age his body didn't speak of.

Lord Death nodded to his guests, greeting them in order of their appearance.

'Father Time,' the man nodded, quite suddenly twenty years old and strikingly handsome.

'Graeae sisters,' Grace smiled and brushed a hand through her blonde hair. Prudence stuck out her tongue, only for Hope to pull on a ginger colored braid as punishment.

'North Wind,' the man gave a broad smirk. 'Ah, Lord Death. It's been a while. Let me guess; another one of your allies has become a demon god?'

'Bah,' spoke Hope 'things are not that complicated. It was merely fate we meet again.'

'If it was fate,' interjected the adolescent Father Time 'then why don't you tell us what he wants?' The sisters hissed. 'You _wish _it were that simple! Destiny does not work that way, dumb fart,' grumbled Hope.

'You know not the complication of our duty,' explained Grace.

Prudence blew a raspberry.

'Now, now,' it seemed Lord Death was always the peace maker when they got together. It was, in a way, very good practice for becoming master of a school. 'eEeryone has their own respective duties and we are all ignorant of what skills the others have. I assume Father Time would be very poor at mastering fates and I can only assume you ladies have little experience monitoring Time.'

'Yeah. Must you guys fight all the time? Just chill,' North Wind chided as if he wasn't the one to get them started. Lord Death felt a headache forming. Though he liked his guests well enough (enough to call them friends, he supposed) they could be a lot of work.

'Anyway, I called you all here for a very particular reason. I appear to have come upon a very vexing problem, and I hoped asking my closest friends would be the best way to acquire the answer.' Father Time gave a self-righteous smile. 'Is that your way of saying you missed me, Death? I must say, I'm flattered.' Hope scoffed. 'As _if._ He only invited you because otherwise you would _pout._'

'Or perhaps he couldn't bear to have_ you _in the same room without a buffer?'

'Must you squabble like children?' Great. Now North was in the argument as well. Death sighed inaudibly; next time he would call them one at a time. He almost felt like an older brother with constantly bickering siblings. Death had existed the longest, after all, with the Fates and Time running a close second and the Wind brothers (North, South, East, and West) being the youngest.

'I am under the impression that I have found a wiccan,' he spoke low to grab their attentions and the others were silenced almost immediately. Father Time broke the startled quiet. 'Just what are you trying to pull Death? We all know the last wiccan died long ago, the way of the wiccan dying with her.' For one could not be born a wiccan, they had to be taught. Taught to use and direct their magic instead of allowing it complete control.

Death nodded. 'Of course. I merely wanted to get your attention.' And he proceeded to inform his associates of the strange young woman his son had stumbled upon. Her lack of aging, amnesia, and odd, ancient magic. The fact that weather phenomena followed the girl throughout most of her youth. Her apparent ability to attract shady, soul eating monsters. Death explained everything he had discovered thus far, hoping that saying it aloud to like minds would help to sort it out.

By the end, his five friends had looks of befuddlement on their faces. 'You presented us with quite the conundrum, old friend,' mumbled North Wind, stroking his beard. 'She sounds shockingly like a witch…'

'But her soul is untainted,' Lord Death interjected.

'Your son's claim, that she was able to produce a large, earth spirit barrier makes one think of wiccans,' hummed Father Time.

'Ah, but then her magic would be much more limited,' Death sighed. He turned to the sisters Graeae, thinking they would also have an idea to propose.

Prudence was twitching, Hope strangely silent as Grace folded her hands more tightly before her. Lord Death had seen the same behavior the faces of his students when they had done something wrong. 'Sisters,' he said slowly, betraying none of his suspicion 'do you known what I have allowed to live inside my city?' He directed the question at Grace, the most honest of the bunch, and though Hope grabbed her sister's arm, she moved too late.

'Yes,' Grace spoke without remorse 'I do.'

Hope snarled a curse.

Prudence hissed.

'Oh?' Lord Death spoke before Time and North 'do tell.'

'I don't see why not. It is in the past, and it would be silly of any of you to judge us now.' And just like that, in a play of words that was typical of the eldest triplet, her behavior was protected. No one wanted to risk their appearance in front of others possessing equal power, no one wanted to be the petty one to be angered. Despite the challenge, no one spoke in rebuttal. Death smirked behind his mask, as Grace proved her dry, deleterious way of thinking had survived the years.

'As you know,' the woman began simply, despite the glares of her sisters 'we exist in order to provide a sense of balance in the world. Because humans require each of our services in order to be reminded that so much proceeds despite their will. Fate, Time, Death even the true nature of Wind is beyond them, and so it falls to us and ours to maintain these forces. And because of that basic rule, it is only natural to recognize why there is no Life among us. It is a natural thing, to live, and there had never been an occurrence in which anything born had to be forced to live. Either it did, or it died. Life itself is not a force of order, and takes too many forms to be considered as such.'

'Spit it out, woman. What do you know?' griped Father Time.

'Do not interrupt, Time,' Lord Death hummed, as Grace was known to think aloud in this way. 'Let her explain fully.' The lead Fate nodded in thanks and continued. 'And though it holds no true organization, Life is a power of its own accord. It is an uncontrollable entity with boundless potential and forms. Terrifying, if we think of it too deeply. That is why, my friends, we panicked when we wove something frightening.'

'Frightening? How so?' Death encouraged.

'In its ambiguity. It held the same prospect, the same uncertainty as the great unknown. I suppose you could call it a mutant. Some corruption of what it had been meant to be.' North Wind scoffed. 'What? Did you three miss a stitch or something?'

'It's no joking matter!' hissed Hope 'don't you _dare_ blame us, Breezy!'

'Indeed,' murmured Grace 'we weave the strings of destiny, but we are helpless to change it. Helpless to interfere. Or perhaps we would have killed the child at birth. It was meant to be chaos, and so she was. I suppose she was originally intended to be a witch, born to a witch, but she held no magic within her body. There was no tempest waiting to drive her mad, no sway to make her a force of destruction. And for this, we are lucky.' The sister shook her head slowly. 'For in the absence of magic in her body, the girl's body adjusted. She began to unconsciously absorb the ever present power around her; Life.'

'Nonsense!' argued Father Time 'that would make her power nearly infinite!'

'Near it,' Grace spoke before Hope had the chance 'but not quite. And that is why we are lucky. She was limited only by her own inability to absorb massive amounts at a time. And, of course, her sense of morality. She devoured what she could without killing herself or the host,' Grace smiled 'a witch who didn't kill. It was very amusing. My sisters and I enjoyed this bit of irony.'

'If such a…a _thing _existed, why would you remain silent? Why wouldn't you tell others?' Father Time was once again an old man and insistent upon being offended by the Fates. Destiny and Time have always had a rather…_complicated_ relationship.

'Because,' and Hope answer with strange calm 'it is not our way.'

'Are you saying,' North Wind frowned 'that the young woman Death described is this…mutated witch?'

'Oh, no,' Grace shook her head slowly 'I'm saying her abilities resemble The Wiccan. The first, if memory serves, to use the powers of earth and Life for magic, the one others would come to base themselves upon.' She turned to Lord Death, who was carefully running over her words in his head. 'She died. Or, rather, vanished from our tapestries for a time. Call her here, Death. I could identify her, if she were to stand before me.'"


	9. Chapter 9

**BB says: **This may, like my other stories be placed on hiatus for a hot minute. Spring semester just started and some of us (me) have to keep up scholarship worthy work. Seeing as my family isn't going to be composed of millionaires anytime soon and going to school is costing an arm, a leg, and one of my brothers, I am going to consider homework more important than you. But fear not! I shall still update, just even slower (if possible).

**Rating: **Teen

**Disclaimer: **Seriously? Is anyone even reading this? In case you are avoiding my story by wasting time reading my pathetic little repudiation, I own not part of _Soul Eater, _manga, anime, or characters. Or merchandise.

"Lord Death cocked his head at his peer, an action that didn't escape the all seeing eye of the lead fate. She had come alone to view Sigh, and when asked about the decision to do so she answered dismissively. Fine. Both Fate and Death had their secrets. But now, as they waited patiently for a fire spewing youth to enter the chamber Lord Death felt a question tingling at the back of his mind, one that should have occurred days ago.

'What do you suppose we should do when she gets here? That is, if she is who you assume her to be?' Grace sipped her tea slowly, putting off the question as someone with her somewhat disagreeable nature was wont to do. Its wasn't as though she had anything dependent upon this, it wasn't as though it was her life that could quickly take a change for the worst. There was no foreseen reason for her to be concerned enough to answer promptly; it just wasn't necessary.

But Death thought it was the least the woman could do.

'I don't know,' she finally hummed. 'I always assumed that would be a decision for someone else to make. Someone who protected the balance of things and who was expected to keep undesirables from progressing too far into power.' A poorly hidden jab at Death's duty; it didn't go unnoticed. 'Ah. But since this is your find, _I_ was under the assumption that you and your sisters would like a word into the girl's fate.'

'We cannot change what is set in any case, Death. If she was meant to die, she dies.'

'So it is my _destiny_ to decide hers? What a fine paradox that is.' Caught in her own words, Grace fell silent and allowed Death to continue. 'I shall ask again and keep in mind this is in no way an insult, Grace. I merely wish to know what you, as a person, as a Fate, and as a woman of considerable intelligence, believe should be done about her.' The Fate was silent and Death noticed her long grey fingers tightening momentarily on her fine china tea cup.

'You will think me cruel,' she finally muttered, setting down her drink with a clink. 'Or perhaps even paranoid.'

'After such a long friendship I doubt there is much you can say to surprise me.' The woman snorted and if she had eyes (save the one hovering above her left shoulder) Lord Death supposed she would have rolled them.

'Not that I am in a position to judge. Either of us, really. Who are we to say who joins us in immortality and who doesn't?' Rhetorical; Death didn't need to answer for her to continue. 'It is my belief that the girl should be put down. If she truly is who I believe her to be, the creature that was born to a witch and yet so different from her sisters, she is be destroyed. It would be much too easy for her to become a monster.' She lifted her cup and returned to her passive aggressive demeanor. 'Much like your former lapdog Asura the girl must be euthanized before she can cause chaos.'

Lord Death tried not to scowl, as that was surely the response the Fate wished for, but found it difficult not to take the woman's words as cruel as she had intended them to be. He was death incarnate. Advocate for the end. And yet he couldn't see killing a young woman for what crimes she could not even remember. Crimes that she never had and perhaps never would commit.

'I see doubt in your demeanor.' Nothing escapes Fate. Ever. 'Have you truly gotten so soft, Death? Have these brats truly pacified you so completely? You know what must be done to retain Order. That is what you are; Order. We all have our place, and it is our duty to protect and direct the world as it is meant to be. Any allowance could lead to chaos comparable to insanity. And we cannot allow that to happen despite the petty attachments to these fragile creatures you fancy keeping as pets.' Lord Death sighed.

'I agree that, in the end, I must keep Order. But life without inconsistency is Death. I am master of Death; but I know my place.' He spoke completely seriously, not bothering to maintain his silly voice. 'I have always believed that what the world needs is chaos in increments. Mutations. Evolutions. I am Order. _Death _is Order. But the world is a disorderly place.' If he had a face, perhaps it would have been set resolutely.

'There is no light without there being a shadow to compare it to. There is no love without a knowledge of hate. She is a lost child and nothing more. It would be wicked to merely destroy her without proof of her wickedness. Especially if she cannot help being a tool of chaos.' Grace snorted once more but allowed Death this last word. He would come to see. How could he not?

Was this not the same conversation they had concerning Asura?

Sigh stood moments from Lord Death's school, nibbling on the corner of her muffin. She was feeling rather content now that the pastry was in her possession, and Kilik watched a satisfied smile curve onto her face.

'What?' he asked her curiously around a mouth full of donut. She glanced at him as if only at that moment remembering his presence. Her eyes were shining with contentment and a relaxed air seemed to be emanating from her body. 'Hmmm? Nothing I guess. It's just…I think today is going to be a good day.' Kilik smiled indulgently. 'Ya think?'

'Yep. I just feel it in my-'

Sigh was snatched from the end of her sentence and far into the air. Disorientation made her stupid; she spent an entire second wondering where the ground had gone before the pain that appeared in her shoulders captured her attention. She stiffened and jerked, pondering her next actions as she dared to gaze up at the monster holding her captive.

It was a rather large bird with rusty brown feathers and gleaming red eyes, a woman that was very much a witch riding on the back of the massive creature and grinning down at her quarry. Sigh dared not move –the familiar's talons were extremely sharp, having lashed her deeply as they wrapped about her upper arms- but she sent the other woman a scalding glare through her tears of pain.

'Gotcha!' the witch cackled with glee, daring to prod Sigh in the face. While the woman was very beautiful, as most witches are, she also possessed the same mad gleam in her eyes and the wicked twist to her features. 'You're coming with me, Girly.'

'Like Hell she is!' The witch had made the mistake of hovering near a building, a building Kilik had taken the freedom of using as leverage to launch an aerial strike and land a blow that knocked the witch's familiar off balance.

The massive bird released its talons in shock and Sigh tumbled through the air, a long fall that surely would have injured her severely had Kilik not caught her before she hit the ground. The girl was impressed. Even without his weapons the African young man proved to be quite an efficient fighter. The witch and her bird had careened into the side of a tall brick building and was lying in a heap upon its rooftop.

'You okay?' Kilik asked snapping Sigh from her wonder and eyeing her arms. The shredded sleeves and weeping wounds made it look as though the girl had come from battle. Refusing the pain and his look of concern, Sigh grit her teeth and wriggled from his grasp. 'She really didn't cut me deep. I'll live. I'm just glad I didn't lose my glasses.' Kilik chuckled. 'I know the feeling.'

'You bastard!' The witch's screech sounded from above. Her formerly perfectly coifed blue hair was now mussed, her bird sporting a nasty bump on his head. 'How dare you hurt Henry like that? You'll pay!' Kilik scoffed but stiffened. A fight with a witch was no joke, and without Fire and Thunder he was at a severe disadvantage. He glanced at Sigh. Even as a bloody mess the girl held defiance in her eyes.

The young man adjusted so he stood between the witch and the seething Sigh. Stupid girl would get herself killed.

'Haaawwwwk. Hawwk. Squwakkkk. Hawk. Hawk!' Ethereal feathers, pulsing with dark magic, formed on the witch's forearms. They looked unnaturally soft and wavy, blowing in a wind that didn't exist on the still day. Kilik grit his teeth and got ready to dodge, feeling Sigh stiffen as she did the same. It didn't matter. He would drag her out of the way when he ducked.

Lightening rent the sky, an odd sight on a clear day. The massive force of nature was decisive in its movements, arching through the air and striking the witch point blank. The woman was knocked from her mount and spiraled through the air before landing in a heap on the ground several feet away. She didn't move.

'Ha!' announced the newcomer. 'Glad to see me, aren't you Kilik?' The African grinned. 'You have no idea Ox. Although it was all under control.'

'No. It wasn't.' Ox Ford's weapon commented dryly. Practice allowed Kilik to ignore Harvar's chilled opinion but Sigh wrinkled her nose. She recognized her cousin's voice, even if she had never seen his weapon form in person. 'Don't be a jerk. We could have handled it. She wasn't as tough as we thought she would be. Small potatoes, if I say so myself.' If Harvar responded it went unnoticed under the dull sound of something heavy and sharp entering meat.

In a bit of a shock, Sigh glanced down at the sharp feather now protruding from her chest. The pain was dulled in the wake of her surprise, and she could barely hear Kilik calling her name as darkness crept upon her. Strong hands wrapped around her as she collapsed into a heap, eyes open but dulled.

'Shit!' Kilik pulled Sigh close, her eyes glazing over with an emotion that was definitely not the pain he expected as she began to go limp in his arms. He thought she was going into shock.

'Sigh! Sigh! Damn it! You can't go to sleep! Okay? Okay?' She wanted to tell him to stop yelling in her ear but her mouth wouldn't move. And though she could tell his voice had escalated, she couldn't hear his exact words over the thrumming her own heart.

'BITCH! WHO'S SMALL POTATOES NOW?' The witch taunted from her stand point. She had crawled back to her feet, singed flesh and all, and had proceeded to recollect magic in her limbs. A whole line of feathers similar to the one stuck in Sigh were now lining her arms.

Moving fast and leaving the seemingly injured Sigh to Kilik, Ox made to strike the witch down again, shocked when the woman dodged. 'Ha! Do you think you can catch me with the same attack twice? Fool! Novice! Idio-'

'Oh shut _up.' _A heavy mass of fire and wrath struck the final blow, blasting the obnoxious woman into oblivion and leaving her tainted soul bobbing in the air. Kim huffed and swung Jackie about, truly peeved that the annoying witch had lasted as long as she had.

'Sigh? You have to stay awake, okay?' Kilik practically begged. She couldn't answer. The feather in her chest had vanished with the witch's death, and the pain was not what she expected. It was extreme, to be certain, and if she had control of her body at the moment she probably would have been screaming. But she didn't. Apart from the deep tearing the dagger-like weapon had created there was a heat she couldn't explain, a rising fire that seemed to be eating at her from the inside and clawing at her serrated flesh like a beast desperate to escape.

Unaware of Sigh's internal torment, Kim rushed over to kneel beside the stilled girl. Jackie returned to human form, a look of both curiosity and concern on her olive features as she came to stand beside her meister. Kim sighed as she gazed upon Sigh's injuries, as her eyes connected with Sigh's and a brief chill ran through her.

It was fundamentally different and yet akin to the feel she got when coming into contact with another witch. Unlike the curling kinship, the nagging rip tide of power the tanuki witch usually felt amongst others of her kind, this was more of a subtle wave. It was an undercurrent, daring her to ride and seek the end to a seemingly ongoing river. Was there an ocean? A sea of magic and chaos just beyond the ridge of what lay within the depth's of this girl's eyes? Kim wanted to know. And in the same instance dreaded the answer like she had never dreaded anything before.

Her eyes dilated. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up like those of an offended animal.

'Kim!' They were calling her. They wouldn't understand. They were human and could not hear the call or feel the mixture of unreasonable dislike and burgeoning confusion twisting in her gut.

'R-right,' the rose haired girl snapped back to reality, reaching over Sigh injuries and breaking eye contact with the other girl. She had to focus now; she was a part of Shibusen! Not some nutty witch likely to lose control at a crucial moment. 'Let's see if I can't get you back on your feet…eh?' Kim's eyes snapped back to Sigh's gaze, only to find the mercury colored ponds closed from view and unresponsive.

It had been somehow both agonizing and comforting for Sigh as the heat in her body came to focus on several points right above her injuries. The group surrounding Sigh could only watch in awe as her wounds began to visibly steam, a strange tiredness overcoming them as her flesh knit itself back together seamlessly. It was almost as though she was using their strength, taking a bit from each of them, in order to heal herself.

Everyone jumped she suddenly gasped and bucked in Kilik's hold..

'Sigh!' Kilik lost his supportive grip as she fought him, wanting to break free and stand in her delirium. She couldn't see, she couldn't feel, everything was coming at her too fast. Places and faces that should not be a part of her because she had never seen them before. And yet her fingers clentched as though to hold them closer.

_A face. A very beautiful woman with dark brown skin and deep black eyes. She smiled kindly and embraced her daughter warmly. The girl was precious, she was special, she was the apple of her mother's eye._

She twisted harshly and began mumbling words in Swahili, a language that she hadn't known previously.

_The woman was dead and the glowing prison and the deep, dark Hate that chased. Chased her and changed people. She had to kill it. She had to find it. She had to kill it. It killed the Pretty Woman._

_And then the first man to find her. The Order that guarded her. Insisted she was the survivor of a lost line._

Eyes rolling back in her head she gave another gasp.

_No stopping. It found her when she stopped. The Hate. It found her and it never wanted to let her go. But she was stronger. Even as her memories faded and her mind reflected her physical age, she knew she was stronger. And It knew it to. That was why it was keeping her distance. But It would find her when It thought It had leverage. When It thought It could destroy her._

_Like it destroyed the Pretty Woman. _

Sigh fell still after a short fight, body falling limp. The group was stunned, all but one exchanging glances as though one of them would have the answer to the enigma Kilik was holding in his arms. Kim was the only person just watching, eyeing Sigh in both fascination and distain.

'She's alive,' Harvar eventually said in his dull fashion. His detachment seemed ridiculously inappropriate. 'And that's weird. But we shouldn't just sit here and wait for her to wake up when she's displaying suspicious attributes.' Kilik cringed slightly as his stupor faded; although they were rough acquaintances, he couldn't say he liked Harvar very much. The spear was somewhat cold in his decisions and precise in his actions. Though Sigh was his cousin, Kilik wouldn't put it past the boy to turn his back on her if his duty was to call for such a thing.

Not that Kilik himself believed it would ever be necessary for the Harvar to make that decision. That would imply that Sigh was some sort of danger; and she wasn't. Despite that little bout of weirdness and the sharp tang of foreign magic ringing in the air, Kilik refused to believe Sigh meant any harm.

But still.

'We were going to see Lord Death anyway,' the African spoke as he lifted the unconscious girl into his arms. She was practically weightless for one with strength like his. 'Lord Death wanted to see her for something important. But I think we should take her to the nurse first. Maybe those feathers weren't meant to cause physical harm.' He began taking the steps to the school three at a time, Ox keeping up easily with Harvar trailing behind. Kim lagged in the back.

'And harm what then? Her soul?' Ox asked, cocking his head to the side. 'But look at her! She's covered in blood!' And she was. Her shirt was in tatters from the sharp claws of the oversized bird and long rusty stains marked the shoulders of the fabric. Her chest was weighted down with blood that had escaped the wound before it closed, a large red spot that was terrifying to look at. The lightening wielding young man narrowed his eyes at a mark on the girl's wrist, a scar that arched from her palm to her arm, but the limb swung the blemish out of view before he could study it thoroughly.

A story his older brother told him wiggled in his memory, but he was much too distracted by the present to give it much thought. He allowed his eyes to train straight ahead as they bounded forth.

Lord Death, for his part, had noted the appearance of the witch on the steps of his school and had dismissed the woman as fodder for his students. She was weak compared to her sisters and stupid enough to reveal herself before one of the largest institutions dedicated to destroying those like her. It had almost been too easy, really, ridding the world of her, and he couldn't help but feel the sudden weight of suspicion. Not just because of the witch's rather simple execution, but the simply manner by which it had occurred.

Something didn't feel right. Not at all.

Why would it be so crucial to attack Miss Éclair now? According the Madame Éclair, there had never been an abundance of kishin eggs attacking her daughter, nor had the young woman been a particular target for witches. It all seemed to be coming to a climax in his backyard for reasons that were beyond his scope.

The reaper sent a cautiously casual look at his companion. If the Fate knew anything she was doing a very good job of hiding it.

It didn't take long for Sigh to wake up in the infirmary, but she was promptly embarrassed by the concerned look on Kilik's face and her complete lack of a blouse. Oh sure, the tatters of her shirt (barely) covered her modesty, and the nurse (a woman wrapped head to toe in bandages and brandishing a simple, daisy yellow aura) had pulled the covers up to her chin. But when Sigh sat up in belated startle her primary defense against the chilled office air fell to her lap.

Her first words was not what she expected to fall from her own lips.

Instead of 'what happened?' like any sane person would ask, the girl found herself asking a rather irrelevant question.

'Shit,' she mumbled absently 'where the Hell are my glasses?'

The nurse and Kilik traded a look of confusion. 'Sigh,' the nurse spoke slowly, as though concerned she wouldn't be understood. Kilik must have told her Sigh's name. 'Do you know where you are?' The younger woman sighed. 'Exactly where I hoped I would never end up again. Shibusen, right?' The nurse didn't respond but marked something on a chart. Noting, one would assume, the fact that Sigh was still oriented enough to remember the minor details.

The young woman would have laughed had she the humor to do so. But at the moment she was too fatigued and frustrated to do anything but frown deeper and cross her arms, content to bemoan her current situation fully. Cold and abused and sitting in the ruins of her favorite blouse.

'It seems all I do is get hurt since I moved to Death City. What sort of place are you people running? I go out for groceries; I get attacked. I go shopping; I get attacked. I go for a walk with a friend; what a surprise! I get attacked. Is that a tourist point for you? "Come to Death City! Named for the high mortality rate!" I mean goddamnit!' Sigh huffed and wrinkled her half blind eyes at the blur that was most likely Kilik.

'Ruined my fucking shirt and nearly gave me a fucking heart attack and can't do bat-shit without almost dying and _where the Hell are my glasses? _Can't they have the decency to stay on my fucking face at a moment like this?' Her voice broke and she pursed her lips before the other occupants in the room could hear the shaking that had slowly been overtaking her. Her quivering hand found her quivering lips, and she closed her eyes. She must have appeared to be losing her mind. She had to calm herself. There was no need to worry others about her predicament; she detested pity.

And what about those memories? Those thoughts that tasted familiar and yet rang a strange tune in her mind?

_Tamu ya moyo. Moja yangu ya thamani. Mdogo wangu msichana mzuri… _(Sweet heart. My precious one. My beautiful daughter…)

The words called her sweetly. In a language that was heart achingly close to her and a voice that struck straight to her heart.

'I'm sorry Kilik. Miss…?'

'You may call me Negis,' the woman said gently. She extended her hand and Sigh accepted her glasses with a forlorn 'thank you'. The girl averted her eyes from the empathetic solemnity on Kilik's face but felt his hand find her shoulder after a brief moment.

'Sigh, are you-'

'I'm fine,' she interrupted. 'Just…a little shaken is all.' The fact that she avoided his eyes warned Kilik of her untruth. He was surprised she would waste the energy to lie or that she wasn't frightened of how close she had come to death. How could she dismiss it so?

He opened and shut his mouth, finding himself unable to ask.

'How are you feeling?' he asked instead, feeling her stiffen before relaxing beneath his hand. Sigh shrugged and winced. 'Sore,' she answered confused and sore.'

'You are bruised pretty bad,' Negis commented 'but nothing all that serious for a run in with a witch. I think you'll make a full recovery.'

'Well that's good to hear. I suppose the witches will just have to try harder next time, eh?' Neither Kilik nor Negis knew quite how to respond, and Sigh once again scolded herself for being unduly nasty. She was save the burden of apology as the clinic door slammed open to reveal a somewhat hassled looking Death the Kid.

His sulfur eyes were boiling beneath his frowning brow, his lips turned in a very disagreeable snarl as he looked about the room. Gaze landing on the tattered and bloody Sigh, a sudden jolt seemed to run through his body, a muscle spasm causing his fingers to twitch and his nose to wrinkle, teeth grinding against each other. Not quite understanding his own discontent, he was by her bed in three strides.

'What happened?' he asked her from behind his clenched jaw. Sigh looked at him in vague surprise at his demeanor. He was ruffled in a way she had never seen before. It looked like he hadn't combed him hair very well, and his jacket was wrinkled and crooked on his lanky frame. While his gaze mainly spoke of undue anger there was also a subtle note of wildness in their depths that tugged and thrashed at Sigh in a mirror image of his tumultuous aura.

But he was Kid. Prone to little fits here and there; what was one more?

Sigh dismissed his upset coolly.

'We were attacked on the way here.'

'We?' Kid's gaze darted to where Kilik's hand resting on Sigh's shoulder, his eyes narrowing slightly.

'I believe that is the correct pronoun,' Sigh said saucily 'seeing as it was both Kilik and I who were attacked. _We _were attacked. Someone attacked _us._ As much as I would love to argue grammar with you, I'm tired so-'

'Who,' Kid forced himself into calm, although his eyes were still aflame 'who attacked you Psyche?'

'I don't see how it matters now-'

'_Who attack you Psyche?'_ So much for calm. There was an edge to his voice that made Negis raise her eyebrows and Kilik frown deeply. The latter made to respond disapprovingly but Sigh spoke over him. 'It doesn't matter now, Kid. The witch is dead and I'm not and that's all there is. Let it _go._'

They both glared, seething at each other for a brief moment before Kid suffered some sort of twist in his character. Sigh refused to feel her stomach dip into a pit as the young reaper went through the familiar action of disassociating himself; the wrinkles vanished from his face and were replaced by a look of forced apathy. His shimmering eyes flattened. He folded his twitching his fingers behind his back.

'Very well Psyche. If you're feeling so much better, I'd like to ask you to free up this bed for others who may need it. It's a waste if you think to just loiter.'

'I'll leave when I'm good and ready. There's no rule saying I can't stay.'

'_I _am saying you can't. If you insist upon your good and health and wellbeing it is my duty to be sure you do not waste Negis' precious time filling a bed.' He blinked as though this entire conversation now bored him. 'Leave. Now. Or I will make you.'

'Whoa' Kilik growled, standing. He was wider than Kid and taller by nearly an inch. Surely the reaper could see she was sick, right? Surely he knew she was just trying to put on a brave face, that her nastiness was a self-defense comparable to a wounded animal lashing out at a good Samaritan. The African boy slid his hands into his pockets and crinkled his brow. 'Don't talk to her like that. She doesn't deserve that.'

The other boy's defense of Sigh only served to infuriate Kid worse; he had to keep himself from snarling.

'As she's said previously, it's over now and she's fine,' Kid responded with Harvar-like precision 'and I see no point in her remaining here any longer if she's so confident in her own good health. The nurse's office is not here for napping. It's here for medical assistance.' He never broke eye contact with Sigh, the young woman hardening her eyes at him and pouting her lips. She had hurt his feelings by shoving away his concern; she could see that now that is was too late. There was nothing she could say that wouldn't be corrupted by her mounting frustration with the whole situation. Nothing she could say to nip Kid's faux heartless manner.

The reaper had been enjoying an original publication of _Arabian Nights _(not translated, of course) when his heart hit an iceberg. That is to say, it crashed and sank, all in one breathless moment.

Caught very unaware, Kid shot up straight with a look of startle on his face that confused his weapons. He was unable to resist the twitching in his legs and leapt to his feet with all the intent and none of the goal. Ignoring the still very curious looks he was receiving from Liz and Patty, Death the Kid fled from the room to search for relief. Surely his sudden discontent was merely a flare of his previous concern with symmetry; something off in the mansion had suddenly occurred to him and his subconscious was trying to force him to fix it.

But though he kept his eyes open for any error and found several, his body still refused his efforts to relax once he corrected them. He was restless and agitated for no seen reason; which made his all the more restless and agitated. What was it? What was it?

Far in the distance he felt the reveal of a witch. A weak one, but a witch all the same. And while he was surprised to feel such a thing so close to his father's school, he was convinced it would be simple enough for the students to do away with the foolish woman.

His heart made a rebound, landing in his throat and attempting to choke him. He covered his mouth with the sudden fear he would vomit, blood pumping much too fast to be comfortable and his legs urging him forward.

With an uncommitted shout of farewell to his weapons, he snatched his jacket from its hook and was gone.

'What was that about?' Liz asked, watching the door slam in a very un-Kid like manner. Patty thought for a moment. 'Hmmm….maybe he wants a new book!' Liz gave a grunt, not quite buying her sister's reasoning. Especially when the younger's huge baby blues were just as concerned as her elder sister's.

It didn't take Kid long to arrive on the scene, the heavy smell of magic and blood greeting him and telling him that he was moments too late. Strange panic seized him, and he found himself leaping up the steps to the school with the adrenaline of a desperate man. Why? Why? Why?

He rushed past Ox and Harvar, having a whispered conversation with Kim and Jackie. He sped away before Sid could finish his salutation. He barely spared Death Scythe a glance. Unsure of where he was going, Kid was not comforted when his feet led him to the nurse's office. To Sigh drenched in blood and sitting in a hospital bed with weary eyes. He wanted to curse and scream because why hadn't he been there? Why should he have been? Why did he run across town for _this?_

Why was Kilik touching her like that?

'Kilik,' Sigh spoke before the African boy could tell off his unreasonable reaping friend, 'forget it. This is how our relationship has been from the start after all. Right Kid?' The grim reaper just raised an eyebrow at the falsely light question, the combination of amusement and frustration it held. She had no right to be upset in his humble opinion. She didn't even know the definition of the word in this scenario.

'Well, this has been fun. Thank you for walking me to Shibusen, Kilik but I can make it the rest of the way myself.' Kilik snatched his eyes from Kid to look at Sigh carefully as she threw her legs over the side of the bed. 'Are you sure? Because I still have time-'

'You have a mission,' Kid said almost too quickly. 'You still have to prepare. You don't even have your weapons with you.' Kilik frowned slightly, not forgetting his anger at Kid but keeping his gaze on Sigh. 'I can be here if you need me to be.' Sigh waved his offer away despite the trembling in her legs. She felt like a calf that was doomed to stumble before finding her footing. 'I've put you through enough. I think I can make it through the school without being attacked.' More dry humor. Kilik allowed her to move away from him.

Negis sat on a stool beside the bed, eyeing the interaction between the youths in front of her. Her blue eyes, a lovely color for her chocolate complexion, twinkled observantly. She was quite certain she had been forgotten in all the fuss, and though Death the Kid had nodded in acknowledgement before they left, she knew it was only habit. He was much too occupied with the girl Kilik had brought in. The volunteer nurse shook her head and stood from her stool; she wasn't sure if she had ever seen the boy reaper that upset over something quite like this.

'Hey,' Kilik called Sigh before they parted at the door, grabbing her arm and ensuring her full attention. 'Call me if you need me, okay?' Sigh looked deep into his dark brown gaze and smiled. 'Yeah. Don't worry; I'm tougher than I look.' The African boy smirked and turned to leave after shooting Kid one last warning glance.

Of course Death the Kid was less than intimidated.

Sigh still had a smile on her face when she moved to escort herself to Death's door. She remembered where it lay within the school and was content to make the trip herself. But the heavy weight of Kid's aura settled on her shoulders, causing her to blink. It was greatly agitated, thrashing around and flickering about her as if it both wanted to touch and wished to avoid. Her own aura –a presence she could feel if not see- responded in kind.

'Is there something you wanted to say?' They hadn't gone far; Sigh walking and Kid following sullenly. She wasn't sure if he wanted to see his father or if he was just trying to irk her further with his poor attempt at becoming her shadow. Their auras continued to tangle in an ongoing battle of wills. She felt his eyes burning through her back, running over her body. Not in lust, but in…

She turned.

Relief?

And anxiety.

Once she faced him his aura soothed minutely.

Kid's eyes were still uncaring but his hands were balled in his pockets. His shoulders were stiff and his spine tingled with residual adrenaline.

The reaper's nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and allowed calm to flow through him. The haunting feel of discontent seemed to have fled him at the moment and he honestly couldn't remember why he had been so upset in the first place.

Looking at Sigh ponderously, Kid shrugged out of his crooked blazer and offered it to her with a small smile. 'You must be cold. There isn't much left of your shirt.' Sigh frowned at his avoidance of her question but accepted the offer. Because yes, she was cold. And yes, she was slowly growing more embarrassed in her attire. Though most students were in classes there were still just enough to look at her oddly and make her feel awkward. They attended Shibusen for goodness sake! One would think they would be used to seeing people covered in blood!

Pulling her arms through Kid's jacket Sigh noted how his aura had settled. It went from twitchy to completely at ease and she physically startled at the sudden change. It was reflected on the young reaper's face as well, as seeing Sigh in his clothing pleased him more than he cared to admit.

'Thank you.'

'It's nothing.'

Sigh made a little humming noise, perhaps already in the process of forgiving Kid's seemingly outrageous attitude leaps, and turned to continue her journey.

'This may be extremely inappropriate,' the young woman spoke once the young reaper came to walk beside her. 'But I don't know if I'll be coming into work today.' Kid couldn't stop his snort from sliding out. 'I assume not. Although you should have called; I've been expecting you since ten.' A bold faced lie. While his thoughts often wandered to where and what Sigh was doing at many times during the day, her position as his maid had developed a very lax sense of timing. That is to say, Sigh's time frame was set on trust; she got there when she got there and not a moment before.

It was somewhat manipulative on the young woman's part. Since their spitting spat on the first day Kid returned home to her, she knew the reaper was hesitant to fire her. Why, she couldn't say. What she did know was that she had a job that paid her eighteen dollars an hour and an employer who didn't seem to mind her forked tongue or her own set deadlines. It was nearly like working at Forbidden Fantasy all over again; she always arrived right on time to be of use and didn't leave until the work was done.

This freedom proved to be more useful than one would come to think. She would often show up earlier than asked and stay later than necessary. It added to her overall productivity and, to the surprise of both Thompson sisters, Kid seemed to have developed a tolerance for such behaviors as showing up at ten and leaving at six. While he had first sent her a drawn up brow upon entering his kitchen to see her making brunch, the fact that the table was straightened neatly and the plates were served quickly and efficiently served to quell his discontent.

Although they did argue over her new time frame. Only so Kid wouldn't be seen as soft on the blatantly, _painfully_, disrespectful girl.

'Okay!' he had snarled, 'you _may _come in at ten!'

'No!' She snapped back 'I came in today at ten to surprise you guys! I could come in tomorrow at eleven for all you know! Would serve you right too. I come early to make you breakfast and you immediately pick a fight. Ingrate! Arrogant brat!'

'_You _work for _me! I _set your pay,_ I_ set your hours, all _you_ have to do is show up!'

'And I will! You said I had to be here at eleven, but you never said I couldn't come earlier!' And Kid lost. Because he honestly hadn't thought to say she couldn't come to work early if she so chose.

So this day, when the young woman had failed to make an appearance at ten, Kid hadn't thought to be worried. He truly believed she was simply exercising the freedom she had forced him into granting her.

'I'm sorry,' Sigh apologized professionally 'I intended to call you when I arrived here but…you know.' She gave a very awkward gesture to her bedraggled body, wondering briefly why it was she was always caught looking sloppy whenever Death the Kid came around.

And then she wondered why it mattered.

She unconsciously pulled his jacket closer about her in a vain attempt to hide her beaten body, folding in on herself and losing her hands in his too-long sleeves. Mistaking her discomfort for fatigue (and a great deal of it was) Kid stopped walking. 'Would you like me to take you home? I'm sure my father can wait to see you if you are feeling unwell.' Sigh shook her head. 'I'm fine. A little cold, but fine.' There was a smudge on her glasses. She wiped them on his jacket with a huff.

'Are you sure?' Kid persisted, eyeing her. She truly looked exhausted; a terrible thing to be so early in the afternoon but the reaper would not stand for her running herself into the ground. 'I do not approve of killing oneself just to prove a point. If you're tired, let me take you home.' More entertained than annoyed, Sigh turned a wary grey glance on her travelling companion, granting Kid a sassy smirk that made her eyes shimmer. 'Worried about me, Young Master?' She opened her arms wide to remind him of her possession of his blazer. 'Do you want to bundle me up and protect me from the world? Wrap me in your jacket and spirit me back to my apartment in a diamond studded coach?' The young reaper was at a loss for words for a moment as his brain failed to process the idea she presented.

Because he would very much like to hole her up somewhere where no one could ever harm her, ever _get to her, _save for himself. He would be able to protect her when it appeared as though the entire world was out to get her. He would defend her, he would….

Damn it. She was jesting; and now she expected an answer.

Allure.

'Please do not jump to conclusions. I merely fear the amount of dust the shelves in the living room would accumulate if you were to die.'

'Oh, I'm sure you'd manage. If I recall, _you_ taught _me_ the way to "properly dust" in any case.'

'You were not holding the duster correctly.'

'Of course not.'"

The narrator coughed painfully, rubbing her chest as her students gave her concerned looks.

"It's nothing," she assured them as she took a sip of tea "my voice is just getting tired. This can be taxing when done daily." She winked at the audience to assure them of her health and cleared her throat.

"Lord Death raised an unseen eyebrow as Sigh entered, closely followed by his son and clothed in the younger reaper's jacket. She had a look of minor submission on her face but it was softened by a small upturn of the lips; Kid looked so content it warmed his father's soul. But what really got to Lord Death was to see the way his son was eyeing their guest.

The young reaper probably wasn't even aware of his own actions, the fact that his frame seemed perpetually turned in the girl's direction and how his eyes would dart to her occasionally to be assured her wellbeing. His body seemed eager to diminish the physical distance between them, his soul reaching restlessly across the space but his mentality and uncertainty seemed to be stopping him from going further.

With a subtle motion, Lord Death shut off his mirror and ignored the ripples of communication when Grace attempted to re-establish contact. For good or ill, it appeared as though the entire situation had grown much more complicated.

Especially considering Grim Reapers were commended for being able to overcome the effects of Allure very quickly.

'Hi~ya hi, Missy Sigh!' Death chirped, the giggle and bounce flowing back into his demeanor as he pushed away foreboding thoughts. 'I haven't seen you in forever! Have you been avoiding me?' With a frown Madame would have been proud of, Sigh gave a little snort and crossed her arms. He saw her nostrils flare as she stirred the scent of Kid from the boy's jacket.

'Why would I call you? To shoot the breeze? I was doing fine on my own and I haven't needed your help so I haven't bothered to check in,' and then, remembering who she spoke to 'sir.' The reaper chuckled. 'Yes, yes we all know how independent you are, Miss Sigh. But it's such a crime to burn bridges you know. And I believe we've established fairly interesting connection here.'

'You think so?'

'I know so. I find you quite entertaining and I hope you'll come to accept Death City. And myself, eventually.' Sigh carefully combed the reaper's large aura, finding it rife with sincerity. It was now that Death noticed the difference between the girl and her mother, the innocence and trust that had yet to be robbed from deep in the girl's soul. It was one of the many eccentricities the little glowing ball offered, and it was all the more beautiful for it.

'Father,' Kid spoke when it appeared neither Lord Death nor Sigh was going to speak again. 'May I ask what is it you wanted with Sigh?' The elder reaper bobbed a moment to ponder his words. He would need to be careful not to antagonize either of the two people before him.

But, then again, there is no shorter path anywhere than a straight line.

'Yes. I think I may have realized just what you are, Miss Sigh.' Sigh twitched but didn't argue. She had come to accept the fact she wasn't human.

_She couldn't be. She had to be strong enough to destroy It when It arrived._

Sigh grit her teeth and swallowed dread.

What was she…

No. She refused to allow her imagination to scare her.

'So,' she spoke slowly, fearing the knot that appeared in her throat would choke her. 'I'm a witch then.' Her voice cracking, Sigh felt Lord Death's gaze pick her apart. She locked her knees and arms against the fear that overtook her under such a picking gaze, refusing to display her discomfort as blatantly as she had when first meeting the master of death.

The girl's eyes widened a bit as Kid's thick, heavy essence settled about her like a slumbering cat, its owner too far to touch but itching to come closer. The massive aura seemed accepting of her presence as it latched onto the outline of her body gently. It easily engulfed her own struggling essence and encased the girl in a cloak that could almost be considered warm. Almost _protective._

'No,' Death responded slowly to her previous question 'I don't believe you are. But just to be sure, would you like to talk an acquaintance of mine? She's wanted to meet you for a long time and believes she can help clear things up a bit.' Sigh hesitated. Did she really want to know? What if she spoke to this mysterious force only to be told the worst of news? Wasn't it all the more terrifying that she did not know what she did not know?

'I…I…' but wasn't she the least bit curious? All her life had been a blur of peer disapproval and apprehensive looks from those unaffected by whatever charm Lord Death believed she had cast upon herself. Would she like to know why? See what it was that gave people a primitive wariness about her very existence?

She must have been turning pale, as Lord Death was very patient in receiving her answer and Death the Kid sidled closer to her. He was beside her before she knew he had moved. 'Sigh,' he whispered soothingly 'you don't have to. No one is going to make you.'

Sigh turned her head to look at him. He was watching her carefully, the caramel center of his honey eyes focusing on her pale face. She was shaking a bit and he dared to reach for her hand, only to curl his fingers back. He assumed she would not approve of being touched in such a way.

But he did grant her the ghost of a smile and a miniscule nod.

Go for it, he seemed to encourage.

'Alright,' she mumbled. 'Okay. I'll listen to what your friend has to say.'

Of course Grace was a bit put out that Lord Death had dismissed her only to call back moments later. He had to apologize repeatedly before she agreed not to storm away, placed under the belief that she was not only the prettiest of the sisters, but also the smartest and the strongest. Sigh wanted to smile at the ridiculous flattery (and the fact it was working).

'It doesn't matter anyway Death,' the Fate eventually quipped. 'I saw her before you even turned your back on me. Come closer Girl.' Being the only other female in the room Sigh knew the woman was talking to her. With a slight frown, she stepped forward to join Lord Death and his massive mirror on his platform. Kid followed silently.

The woman's aura was one of a creek; very nearly clear but somewhat murky. Not in a deceitful, dishonest way, but lacking the complications that one normally sees in the auras of humans. There didn't appear to be any uncertainty or fear within. The woman clearly thought she was above such trivialities.

'Do you know who I am?' The grey woman asked Sigh. The younger shook her head in the negative and pulled Kid's blazer around her all the tighter. 'I am Grace. The eldest of the sisters Graeae and I have been watching your quite some time. I honestly couldn't turn away; it was a wonderful way to whittle down the day.'

'Can you really say I'm that interesting compared to everyone else?' Sigh questioned before she could stop herself. 'Am I nothing more than entertainment?' Grace seemed unfazed as she took a sip of her tea. 'I suppose you could say that. What else can life be but amusement for those who weave the webs of fate?'

'You could take it more seriously considering what it means to others. For us mortals life is both a blessing and a bother; much more than a game.'

'That's only because you lack the intelligence and maturity for it to be seen the way I see it.' Sigh fought down her spiteful answer, but didn't look away from the woman's face. 'Oh, do look me in the eye,' Grace said in irritation, gesturing to the glowing orb suspended in the air within the mirror. Sigh startled but scolded herself for forgetting. She had indeed read somewhere that the sisters of fate shared a single eye.

What it looked like she had never known until this moment.

'You are not who I thought you were,' Grace continued casually 'but that does not mean you are a mystery to me. You are not Wiccan, but you are close enough. Tell me, do you know who your mother is?'

_Pretty Woman with pretty eyes._

'Madame Anaise Éclair,' Sigh forced herself to say. 'I know no one else, and anyone else doesn't matter. I was abandoned and I don't' see any point in acknowledging a woman who has probably forgotten about me.' Grace gave a patronizing snort that Sigh didn't like. The younger woman grit her teeth and snarled.

'Do you think that's funny?' The Fate quirked her lips in mockery. 'I told you, all this is merely fun. Your pain, fears, and weaknesses don't affect me in any way. Abandonment? Trivial, to me. Uncertainty? Foolish. Nothing but a g-'

'Screw your games!' Sigh barely censored herself in time. 'I'm here under the impression you can help me remember who I am. _What _I am. I refuse to be treated as nothing more than a joke. Either you can help me or you can't and at this point I'm not sure I care either way. I came here to be taken seriously and not to be mocked for my curiosity. At this point I might just leave you here to sip your tea and ponder your little sewing circle!'

'How _dare _you?' question the fate, façade of superiority vanishing in favor of offended astonishment. 'Do you not know to whom you speak? Do you not know our difference in status?'

'All I know,' breathed Sigh 'is that hubris is the great fall of man and monster. Those who see themselves as greater often find out they are truly so much less. You claim that life is nothing but entertainment for you, that everything is just a game? Well then I challenge you to quit it. How can it be nothing but a game to you when you yourself _live? _How can you say that when I can be made to assume some greater power weaves _your _destiny just as you weave ours? Is it a _game_ to you then?_'_

'You know _nothing,_' hissed Grace. 'I have lived longer than you can fathom and have collected more wisdom than you could ever hope to gain! I am larger than your wildest imagination! You dare to question me? Dare to _challenge _me? I could make you vanish within the span of a second. Erase your existence and throw the life of your "mother" into eternal torment and agony!'

'Liar!' barked Sigh. 'I doubt your abilities allow you to tamper so freely in others' lives. It'd be like Death killing because someone cut him in line or Lady Luck sitting with one person out of love. It would wreck the balance and you lack the authority to do such a thing.' Sigh hoped. She could only base her assumptions off observation and the many lessons of Madame Éclair.

Grace seemed too angry to speak for a moment as red entered her grey pallor. But she collected herself beneath her ace in the hole, and held her chin high as she sneered at Sigh. 'If you are so convinced of my powerlessness, then you are doomed to anonymity. A weak entity such as myself would not possibly know _anything _about what manner of beast you are. I shall never tell you who you are; it would only feed your inconceivably unearned pride.'

'Fine! I don't want your help!' Sigh shot back childishly. 'You are nothing but a cockatoo that sits in a tree and shits on those she deems below her,' she scoffed. 'I'd rather live in ignorance anyway.'

'_Death!_' The Fate screeched, standing and spilling her tea on her shoes. She was enraged that her threats and sneers seemed to be useless against this child. 'Take her now! She is worse than I feared! A greater monster than I first suspected! She is wicked! Cruel! Nasty to the core! Her mother was nothing compared to her in terms of malicious intent!' Sigh jumped. Her life depended on this? Since when? She fell silent, dread entering her system.

How could so much ride on this single convesation? A sudden surge resentment sickened Sigh and shook her to her core. She was loathed to admit that she was something terribly dangerous; so much so that Lord Death would need to do away with her should she fight either he or his compatriot.

As she was this moment.

Death spoke out of surprise rather than wrath, but Sigh found it impossible to look at him. 'Her mother? You never mentioned her mother. Unless…' The statement hung in the air as Death realized that Grace had just undone her own threat. 'Unless nothing!' And still the eldest Graeae sister tried to undo her error. 'Know nothing but that this creature before us will cause nothing but wickedness. That she can be nothing but a hindrance on existence itself and a festering boil on the ass of the world!'

'Stop it!' The fourth voice was one all had forgotten. Kid was red in the face with offense, his fists clenched at his sides and his eyes flashing dangerously. 'How dare you speak of her in such a way? How has she lashed against you but for your own rude comments? You cannot accuse her of crimes she has yet to commit just because you don't like her.'

'Your foolish boy reaper needs to learn his manners, Death,' sneered Grace. 'I weave destiny itself, Boy. I know what she is to do, what her mother did before her death. You're all fools for not heeding the words of Fate and you shall all suffer evermore!' She turned to Death, burning him with her single eye. 'Goodbye Death. May you never ask my assistance again; I'll not end our friendship because your brood lacks manners, but do not expect me to be civil for a few decades!' And the mirror went blank.

'Well, well-'

'I'm sorry!' Sigh blurted, heat abandoning her and leaving her cold. Now that the offensive woman had left the full weight of what she had just done came crashing down upon her. She had just told off one of the three sisters of Fates, the three on an equal standing of Death himself. Such disrespect! And to drag Kid into it as well…wasn't she terrible?

'I didn't mean to…I mean she just made me so mad! I couldn't…I didn't…' flustered and embarrassed, Sigh worried her bottom lip and looked to the squiggle that was assumedly Lord Death's feet.

'Bah,' Lord Death replied to the shirking girl. 'I should have known better than to let you speak to Grace; she has the largest head of the three sisters I'm afraid. I think Prudence would have been better for you. She's nice and quiet,' he sighed. 'Ah well. It's done now. But at least we have the information we need.' Kid and Sigh looked up at Lord Death. 'We do?' asked Sigh, Kid's face mirroring her question.

'Indeed we do. I have quite a story for you two, if you care to listen.'

And listen they did. As Lord Death explained what his research, his thoughts, and the thoughts of his peers had led him to believe, Sigh could only listen in fascination. To think that she was the child of…this…this…

'Wiccan,' suggested Lord Death.

And that she was some sort of mutant, the earlier part of a species the world hadn't known in centuries. As a…a…

'Wiccan,' reminded Lord Death.

She was unsure of what to do now. What was it that she was to do? What do…do…

'Wiccans,' chimed Lord Death.

Do?

Lord Death could offer no answers. 'You are different from both witches and humans on a very fundamental level,' he explained. 'I hold no concern that you shall become malicious in the near future, but I must ask you a favor.'

'Favor?' asked the numb Sigh.

'Yes. I would like you to harness your abilities. When you simply bottle them up, unconsciously or not, you are simply causing problems for the future. I can only imagine that when your powers do escape –and yes, they eventually will- they will cause more damage once allowed to build. Use them idly, carefully. Like a pot letting off steam.' Sigh nodded wordlessly although she wasn't sure how to obey. Regardless of her uncertain response, Lord Death turned to his son. 'Kid, I expect you to help her with this. As a grim reaper, you should be about to assist in the stemming of any overflow of magic that she may experience. Besides, studying with friends makes the work that much more fun, right?'

And, as sadistic as it seemed, Lord Death really wanted to see how his son dealt with his newfound feelings.

'Of course father.'

'Good, good. Well, off with you two. I have to make sure Grace isn't throwing knives at a picture of me.'

Sigh allowed Kid to walk her home. And in the silence of their travel there was a weight the two couldn't shake.

Ah well.

Sigh had been taught that whenever an elephant was in the room, it was only proper to introduce it.

'I'm not human.' Kid didn't even blink.

'I heard. I was there.'

'Yeah.' More silence.

'Does the thought bother you?' Not that it mattered to Sigh what bothered Kid or not. Although she supposed he, like his two weapons, had somehow climbed under her skin over time. Maybe he was her friend.

'No. I know many good people who are not what one would consider human.'

'Okay.' Sigh realized how long they had spent in the school as she noticed the setting sun and the encroaching shadows. She shivered in the desert chill that was started to blow in and pulled burrowed into Kid's jacket.

'I…I'm scared,' she mumbled, not quite sure if he heard her. Not quite sure if she _wanted _him to hear.

'I know,' Kid's voice was soft. 'Don't be. I'm here to help.'

And that comforted her a great deal more than it should have.

Some time and some distance away, a meeting of the mischievously evil was held. Unlike previous gatherings, this was private, only for the elite.

That is to say, Baa-sama was joined only by her assistants. And the witches who brought her bad news. They were not so great, save for in their failure.

'So you tell me the child lives?' There was mumbling. 'Speak!' The old witch snapped. A timid bee witch stepped forward. 'Yes m'lady. She lives.'

'And you failed to bring her to me?'

'Aria was supposed to-'

'And did she?'

'E-eh? N-no. M'lady. She was killed this afternoon.' There was silence just long enough for the lower witches in the room to fear for their lives. When Baa-sama spoke again, her voice was dangerously low.

'These repeated failures do bother me so.'

'Yes lady! And might I say how close _I _came to killing her and-' the malice in the air intensified ten-fold. '_Kill her? _Did I _tell _you to _kill her?' _Baa-sama didn't raise her voice but the message was clear; one false word could end badly. The lower witch shivered. 'How dare you even assume to kill my blood? How dare you even _suggest it?' _

'Forgive me M'lady! I meant no offense. The girl, she smelled of Wiccan a-and-'

'Silence, you fool!' The Bee Witch cringed and shrank back, those behind stepping away so as to not be involved in her slaughter. A slaughter that never happened. 'Leave me,' Baa-sama eventually growled. Her minions scurried to obey, bowing obediently. The old witch sighed into the silence and poured herself a cup of whiskey. She stirred it with a finger before staring down into the amber liquid.

'So the brat lives,' she hummed in near amusement. 'I suppose this calls for a reunion of sorts.'"


	10. Chapter 10

**BB says: **And I'm back to this story! You know, although I was concerned that having more than one story going at once would mean less updates for each (especially with school going on) but I think I'm doing pretty well. I admittedly go in order of popularity (the one that gets the most reviews for the least chapters go first. I figure they have a bigger audience) but this is the second story I've updated in the past week and if I keep up this speed over spring break I suspect I'll update another two.

**Rating: **Teen. Sigh really has a foul mouth, doesn't she?

**Disclaimer: **I have no idea why I feel the need to write these. It's not like anyone really believes I could ever own a part of _Soul Eater. _And I don't, by the by.

**BB says some more: **Did I mention my birthday is this month? I share a birthday with Einstein. ~^^~.

"It wasn't often that Madame was confused, so it went without saying that she didn't like the foreign feeling.

Her teeth grit around her cigarette, tobacco grinding into her mouth as she contemplated calling Lord Death. The Madame of yester year would never have considered going back to her former mentor for help but she _might _need help with this particular issue.

Anaise Éclair was _proud,_ not stupid. Even she would (rarely) admit she was somewhat…

…she swallowed bitterness…

_Helpless._

The older woman tried to calm herself, minding her blood pressure. _Think happy thoughts, you old harpy_, she chided herself, _getting angry never solved nothing_.

Happy. Like her daughter. Madame wasn't much for sentimentality, but the fact that Sigh had once again begun speaking with her was very soothing. She had been a venom spiting she-beast the entire time she suffered under her daughter's silence, and the return of contact made her change of attitude so apparent her employees were confused.

So now Sigh called once a day, maybe twice if she felt the inclination to do so. Although their relationship was one of respect and fear one would not be surprised to find the two women of varied ages had quite a bit in common. They were mother and daughter first but also friends; they actually found each other's company amusing after long days at their respective jobs. Madame would snip and Sigh would bark and they would have a grand ole time just picking and teasing at each other.

'Anyone you've fucked or want to fuck?'

'Of course not!' Sigh scowled and Madame would hear the pout in her voice. 'I'm not interested in random coitus.' Madame chuckled. '_Sure_ you're not. I remember being your age.'

'You were a man-eater. I'm afraid I fail in that department.'

But the most recent contact she had with her daughter lacked their usual playful banter. It happened just moments after Madame entered her office, the girl's name appearing on her phone like she could sense her mother's presence.

'What?' It was silent, although Madame could hear Sigh take a sharp intake of breath. After a heartbeat the older woman spoke again.

'Psyche,' she growled 'my feet hurt and I'm not near drunk enough to deal with games. What do you want?' She thought she heard a small whine escape the girl's throat and two grey eyebrows knit together as a thin lipped mouth folded in displeasure. Before she could continue to goad at her daughter, Sigh spoke.

'I…I have a question, Madame.'

'Oh?' Madame leaned back in her chair to set her feet on her desk casually. Finally, the meat of the issue comes forward. 'What? Make it fast, I'm busy.' Not really. Madame was taking one of her many breaks in the day, coming into her office to nap and perhaps work on her crossword puzzle. Usually one of Sigh's 'questions' would lead into conversation, one that Madame was always willing to have with Sigh.

'I just…I…you know how Death The Kid was wondering what I am?' The girl started clumsily and with a rhetorical question. 'He, um, he took me to his father today because they thought…they figured out what I was.' Shock, Madame realized with a jolt, the girl was in shock. 'Apparently I'm…not…I'm not…'

Madame felt her eyes narrow at the sound of tears in her daughter's voice, eyes wide in disbelief. She heard the girl try to stifle a sniffle and give a shuttering breath. She knew Sigh had been crying –she heard it in her voice like any mother would- but hadn't thought the girl would break down before her. Madame didn't tolerate crying, especially not for stupid reasons. Sigh knew that. Sigh respected that. The fact that the younger woman had called her adopted mother just to burst into tears meant something.

'What the Hell you blubbering for?' The woman tried to remain nonchalant as her mind shifted into a higher gear. 'What the fuck happened?' Madame felt anger creep down her spine at the thought of someone making her daughter cry. That damn bastard Death promised to protect her! He promised the girl would be safe in his damn city on its cursed foundation!

'N-nothing it's just that-' Madame felt her fury double.

'Don't lie to me. You're terrible at it. Who hurt you?' Grim reaping bastard made Psyche cry. And Madame knew that wasn't an easy feat.

The girl hiccupped but barked a laugh. 'No one touched me, Madame. It's _me. I'm_ the problem.' Madame's shriveled old heart turned to lead and fell into her stomach. She did _not _like the path this talk was taking.

'Mom…' Sigh stuttered wetly 'did you know…did you know I wasn't human?' All at once Madame felt a heavy weight on her shoulders, one that had been present for so long she had forgotten about it. Similar to a normal parent dreading a child growing ill, Madame had always dreaded the day Sigh would question who she was. Or, perhaps, more accurately, _what_ she was_._ The girl had noticed from a young age that she was different from the other children. Smarter. More athletic. Sturdier. Madame could still remember the day Psyche returned from school, bloodied and pouting with a note from her teacher stapled to her jacket.

Apparently Sigh had been bullied quite often, and was finally lashing back. Though the teacher merely saw it as Sigh's 'highly volatile nature' (and insisted on black listing her for the rest of her school days) Madame knew better than that. Knew Sigh would never throw the first punch. And she knew, with a spark of pride that was totally inappropriate for this instance, that the girl had won the fight. The teacher always sent the victor home with a disciplinary notice.

'_Bastard called me a freak,' _Sigh spoke with a detachment that reminded Madame she wasn't quite normal. Other children her age would still be shaking and sniveling hours after a fight; Sigh had pulled it together in the twenty minutes it took to ride home. '_And I'm not,' _she looked at her mother, barely concealed fear in her eyes, '_am I?'_

Madame had never lied to her daughter. She had been mean and spiteful and, at times, manipulative, but she had never lied to the girl. And she wouldn't start now, or any day in the foreseeable future. Just as she had assured the girl so long ago, amongst shouted words and dirty looks, Sigh was not a witch. A monster.

'Yes,' the girl took a breath but Madame kept talking 'I've suspected it since I first found you. But Psyche, that doesn't change-'

'You knew?' Sigh whispered softly, the tone cutting off her mother. The woman let it slide…for the moment. 'You knew the whole time…I wasn't human?'

'The whole time. Yes.' Sigh gasped, her breathing becoming loud and fast as she tried to calm herself down.

'And you didn't think…you didn't think to mention it to me? Didn't think to tell me your thoughts when I would come home bloody from fights? It didn't occur to you to tell me I _was exactly what they thought I was?_' Sigh finally exploded.'I'm not _human _mom! I'm not…damn it! I'm not normal! I'm not some innocent girl you took in! How could you keep this from me? All those years of wondering and asking and thinking I was just another outcast from society, and now you tell me you knew why? You knew why they all hated me? _Tortured me?_' Sigh grit her teeth but Madame stayed silent.

All those years of school, the children had gotten used to her Allure. Her friends had all vanished overnight, sensing that the girl wasn't like them, one of them. A fox in the henhouse, and they decided to avoid her because she was so…_different. _They feared her on a strange level that they couldn't understand and hated her because of that fear. While most had simply begun steering clear of the strange girl, the more courageous had taken to cruelty. Punishing her for crimes she had no idea she had committed.

'And you know the best part? You know what Lord Death _told _me I was? A Wiccan! An endangered relative of witches!' the girl shook her head. 'I'm practically the same as they are. A monster, a freak, like they always told me I was. I'm dangerous, apparently. You should have seen the bitch they had tell me! She was _outraged _that I even allowed to live.'

Sigh had been fine on the walk home, fine walking with Kid and talking in low, hushed voices. She was relieved that he didn't look at her like she was some sort of phenomenon, like she was some sort of fascinating new creature he had stumbled upon. He had been gracious. Attempting to soothe her through the use of grace and gentility. He had no way of knowing that Sigh had already begun the process of eating herself from the inside out.

It was only as she returned home, thanking Kid politely and closing the door in his face, that she slid to the floor. Her eyes stung spitefully as her throat swelled shut.

And she cried.

Strange tears that were simply the product of confusion. Like emotions were bubbling up and escaping while they had the chance and it didn't matter if they were happy or sad or angry or scared they were just _there. _She sobbed so hard her head hurt, loud gasping crying that she was not accustomed to. She cried until she ran out of tears, and still sat in front of her door for another few minutes.

After a deep breath, she moved to get water. And picked up her phone. And like any other frightened child she called her mother.

'Calm down, Psyche.'

'Calm down?' There was hysteria in the girl's voice. 'What am I going to do mom? All I've ever wanted to do, all I've ever wanted to be is falling down around me and I'm _scared _okay, and _confused_ and I'm a MONSTER! A FREAKSHOW, a fucking-'

'SHUT UP YOU DUMB BITCH!' Madame finally roared into the girl's ear. Her patience had reached its limits. 'How dare you call me and scream at me? How dare you sit there and blubber like you don't any sense? You must have lost your damn mind shouting at me like that!' The girl was silent. 'Now I'm gonna tell you what you're gonna do. You're gonna listen to what I say to you, hang up, and calm the fuck down before you even _think_ of calling me again. I will not tolerate another outburst from you, young lady. Do you understand?'

'Mom, I-'

'DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, PSYCHE?'

'Y-yes. Yes Madame.' Madame lit the tobacco that was still in her mouth, taking a deep drag before speaking again. It relaxed her somewhat.

'You, Psyche LaBelle Éclair, are my daughter. My _child. _You are nothing more than that. You aren't a witch, you aren't a Wiccan, Hell, you aren't even a _freak. _You are Psyche. Sigh. A young woman who is just as lost as any other young woman. Your life is just starting and you're already running out of steam? Pathetic!' Madame blew a smoky circle into the air.

'Admittedly, the other girls have other issues. Relationship shit, what they're going to wear to who-gives-a-fuck's party, the latest bullshit the fashion industry is shoving down their throats. But you've always been more important than that. More important than those bullshit trivialities.'

'Mom-'

'I said no talking!' the woman hissed. 'So what if you aren't human? If you aren't like that girl down the street or that girl in the movies? You're you. That's all you are, and you can't hope to be anybody else. I expect you to accept that like the girl I raised would. I expect you to embrace everything that you are, good or ill. What good is it weeping over what you can't be? You are wasting both my time and yours with this bullshit and Sigh' Madame growled 'you know how I _hate _wasting time.' Sigh made a little noise in the back of her throat. Maybe a whimper. Madame sat up straight in her chair, resting all four legs with a snap.

'Now I'd appreciate it if you would stop insulting my daughter. If you were anybody else I'd beat your fucking ass for that language. But since you're all the way in Death City, out of range of my bitch slapping hand, I'll let you slide. For now. Brat.' And she hung up.

When Sigh called back thirty minutes later they had a nice, civil conversation about what she had been up to. Her voice was level and Madame even made her smile a few times.

Yes. That was a good memory and it soothed Madame before she could work herself into a fit. The second time she had hung up on her daughter had been significantly more pleasant for both parties and though Sigh seemed to have been sulking, Madame knew she would get over it. It was after the call, when the older woman reached for the top compartment of her desk, that her anger had flared again.

That strange locket, the tarnished golden necklace that her kishin-egg invader had brought into Forbidden Fantasy, was gone.

Surprisingly it wasn't the knowledge that someone had stolen from her that had Madame up at arms. It wasn't the fact that some gusty bastard had slithered into her _home _and taken something that really got under her skin.

It was the loss of the locket itself. The moment she had lifted it from the ground a dangerous pulse had run through her soul. It was dark and deceitful; a lesser soul would have crumbled beneath the sudden weight of absolute darkness. But Madame was stronger than that. She threw it to the floor and ground her heel into it, granting it a sizable dent with her slipper covered foot.

'Try that again and you're scrap metal,' she had snarled 'get it?' Of course it didn't respond, but when she lifted it again there was not a murmur to be heard from the cheap costume jewelry. She had tossed it into her desk drawer and promptly ignored it. It would have to wait until she found the time to call Lord Death. She had other things to concern herself with, and everyone in Forbidden Fantasy feared her too much to dare go through her office. She held no qualms about leaving the door unlocked, the desk drawers partially open.

Ah, what a fool she had been. A proud fool. And now…

An image came flooding back into her mind, a thought that had been forced in when she first lifted the locket. It was a soundless scene, a little village that looked to be in rural Africa. There was a child looking up at her with wide eyes, a sweet smile on her open face. A face with grey eyes beneath a braided tangle of purple hair. She was holding up a homemade doll made of sticks, hair created from the scraggly brush that lined the unforgiving plains of the savannah. She appeared to be offering the toy as a present, but the necklace had underlain the sweet image with a harsh surge of hate. The wish to murder and tear and beat the little girl to death.

Madame cursed herself, shot from her chair faster than a woman half her age.

'That bastard is after my daughter!'

This was very bad. The sooner she called Lord Death the better. A scream echoed through Forbidden Fantasy, catching Madame before she could throw open the door to her office. After a moment of hesitation, she turned afterwards the source of the desperate cry.

If it was a fucking spider she would fire everyone in the fucking place.

Hyacinth hummed, happy with her find. She had gone with Gardenia to see Madame earlier that day. The Gardenia had needed time off, just a day or so to relax and spend time with her son. The eighteen month old had recently started walking and was getting into _everything; _Gardenia's mother was demanding a day off from the terrifying toddler_. _

They found Madame's office to be empty and the women opted to leave a note. Helpful girl that she was, Hyacinth searched Madame's desk for a pen and paper. But…

How _pretty._

She had slid it up her sleeve with a smooth motion, unnoticed by Gardenia even as she passed the woman what she needed for her letter. They left the office in silence, as Hyacinth refusing to speak to Gardenia.

She wanted it, Hyacinth knew, she wanted the treasure. But she couldn't have it! Hyacinth had found it first! And she would keep it! It was perfect and hers and she would destroy _anyone _who tried to take it from her!

Gardenia made the grave mistake of letting Hyacinth get behind her. They were the only ones in the dressing room, as it was a Sunday and the others had left to go home from practice. Abandoned boas and shoes were scattered about like lost children, the heavy scent of perfumes and lotions still hanging in the warm air. 'I'll just get my purse and we can walk to the bus stop,' Gardenia muttered, unnerved by Hyacinth's silence. The younger woman was usually very talkative. Without a moment's hesitation, Hyacinth slammed a lamp into Gardenia's temple as the woman bent to claim her belongings. Gardenia went down like a rock, blood seeping from her skull and a startled look on her face.

She might have been dead.

But at the moment, Hyacinth didn't care.

She left with a skip, vanishing into the deepening evening with her new friend.

_What a smart girl you are! And so pretty too!_

'I know right? You're so nice, Djinn!' The locket chuckled.

_That's because you're so wonderful. Surely, you realize this._

'Right!'

_I do believe I am in love with you. Your grace. Your beauty. Your intelligence._ Hyacinth giggled. 'Oh, do go on, you flirt. My mother warned me about people like you!'

_Of course. I'm quite a scoundrel. But you could tame me…if only you were the best…_

'Only what? What? I am the best! You said so, you said…' Hyacinth pouted. 'You think I'm not the best? Not the prettiest? Not the smartest?' Her parents had always _said_ she was.  
>They had spoiled the girl to the point of no redemption, a rotten brat that refused to repent her selfish ways. Having never worked for herself, she was unprepared for the cruelties of the world. She fell in with gangs, weak soul that she was, and did copious amounts of drugs. She burned through her parents money and shamed her family deeply.<p>

They still told her she was the best. The prettiest and the smartest. And she listened because she was. They were right! It was only a matter of time before she took over Forbidden Fantasy as the lead girl! 'I have to be the best ever!'

_How dare they be better than you?_

'They shouldn't be! They _can't _be!' She scowled. 'I won't let them!'

_Then kill them. Kill them all until you're the most beautiful._

'Fine! I will! I'll show everyone that I'm better than them.' Hyacinth sniffed. 'I'll teach them not to look down on me because I'm young. Because I'm not smart. Soon I will be the smartest!'

_Yes. And you know who is the most beautiful?_

'Who?'

_And so much smarter than you?_

'WHO?'

_Better. Everyone loves her. You know her._

'Tell me!'

_You know her. You know her in your heart._ A picture flashed in Hyacinth's mind, a memory.

'…Sigh?' A dark smile appeared on the woman's pretty face, her hand clenching tighter around the locket. 'I'll just kill her then.'

_Yes._

'And then I'll be the prettiest.'

_Yesss._

'And the smartest! How dare she be the fairest! I'll show her!'

_Yesssss. But first, you have to feed me._"

The narrator was grading tests as she spoke, and paused to frown. "Okay. The person who wrote 'you're the teacher, you should know' in response to question four is going to have a nice, long conversation with me later. You know who you are, smartass." She cleared her throat and slammed the paper to her side.

"Sigh supposed she should not have been surprised to find Kid at her door, his aura seeping into her humble abode like a shy intruder. It promptly found her seat on the sofa and wrapped about her shoulders, entwining in her hair and caressing her hands. It seemed quite at home and was a little more familiar with her body than she was comfortable with. The knock that followed its appearance was short and sharp. Sigh let him stand outside for a while, debating whether she really wanted to dismiss her book in favor of company.

'What is it?'

'It's nice to see you too, Sigh.' The girl hummed, gesturing to let him in. He sat on her elderly couch, looking completely out of place in her tacky little apartment. His smart clothes were new-looking (like they _all _were. Did the boy have anything over a month old?) and his hair perfect combed to put her tangled curls to same. He sat as a dark obelisk in her obnoxiously bright den, not quite fitting in with the books scattered about and (she caught her breath in brief mortification) the laundry she had yet to fold. On top of which rested a pair of brightly colored bunny panties.

Damn it. If she bolted for them she guaranteed he would notice them. Might as well leave them be and hope his eyes wandered around them. 'Do you want anything?' she called, watching Kid curiously lift the book she had been reading. She was surprised he didn't do it gingerly, as the book was quite old and originated from a thrift store.

'_101 Poetry for The Ages_?'

'Yes. Published 1959. Drink?'

The grim reaper smirked in response to her question. 'You even offer to cater to me on your days off? You're certainly work oriented.'

'It's courtesy, asshole, nothing more' she responded good-naturedly while pouring glasses of sweet tea. 'To what do I owe this visit? Have you really missed my snark and snit that much?' It may have been a trick of the light in her poorly lit living room but she thought she saw the boy stiffen in response. It only lasted a quarter of a second; he composed himself very quickly if the motion had happened at all.

'The opposite, actually. My blood pressure and patience have improved significantly in the days I haven't seen you. I believed it was what heaven would be like.' Sighs snorted. 'You must be a masochist then, exposing yourself to my heinously overbearing attitude again.'

'I just wanted to look into any progress you had made. Regarding your…talents, as it were.' Sigh shrugged, their fingers brushing as she handed him his drink. His aura flared at the contact, but she waved it off as it began dancing on her skin. Honestly, it was like an excited dog. Kid must not have been used to contact.

'I'm coming back to work tomorrow. You could have just waited until then.' Kid looked away in what he hoped was a casual manner. Truth be told, his curiosity had been killing him. 'I just wanted to see if I could be of assistance. I knew you would be working on it and I would hate for you to injury yourself some way.'

'If you cared so much you would have been here the first day.'

'Would you have let me in?' Sigh raised a brow as her answer, neither yes nor no. She had been given a week off work to adjust with what Kid had pompously described as 'horribly stressful and incomprehensible changes in her life.' He had come the day after dropping her off at home, appearing before she could even step out the door after a sleepless night.

The reaper had been under the assumption she would be distracted on the job when he offered to let her take some time off, but the girl had leveled him with an even stare. Her mind was working in a way he knew would end in some form of discomfort for him, and his spine tensed in anticipation. The girl threw her finger in his face with Black Star-like showmanship, frowning in concentration. 'You think I'm just going to mope around cry about my life don't you? Well, I'm not! I'm gonna practice and you're gonna be impressed when I next see you!'

Embracing what she was, not longing for what she wasn't.

Kid had smiled at her determined face, mentally berating himself. Of course Sigh was going to be okay; her silence on their walk together had merely been her way of processing.

And he had not come to check on her because he was worried she had blown herself up or some nonsense like that. But he had wanted a sneak preview of what she had been practicing. Just what he would be dealing with as both a grim reaper and the girl's…dare he think…

…friend?

'I promised my father I would help you, so I came by to see if I could do just that.'

'If I need your help, I'll ask for it.' Her response was matter of fact but not mean. Kid sighed. 'Still, Sigh, I-' She grunted, more to herself than to interrupt him.

'Wait here.' The girl stood from her spot on the couch. The poor piece of furniture had a broken spring in the middle, and Sigh had been slowly sliding closer to Kid the whole time. Neither gave it much attention until she stood, hand brushing his arm and her movements pushing the smell of her into Kid's face. His aura flared towards her again, and Sigh could barely stifle a scowl as she brushed it off _again. _Damn thing was persistent.

She returned to Kid with a small potted plant, a pretty little grouping of sweet pea blossoms. She set it on the coffee table and sat with the little table in between herself and Kid.

'I've never told anyone this,' she whispered as though telling a secret. 'I never had the mind to.' She gently fingered the petals of one of the blooms, wondering at how soft and sweet they looked. 'I can see…well, I call them auras, but you can call them whatever. They're like…the energy that every living thing gives off. People, animals,' she gestured to the flowers 'plants. And since no one else seems to notice them, I guess it's a Wiccan thing?'

Kid didn't answer. He just let her talk, irises deep and golden and absorbing her words.

'I mean, I know Lord Death mentioned _something_ about it, but honestly I was a bit overwhelmed at the time…' She tilted her head, looked at the plant thoughtfully. 'Anyway, since I can see auras, I wondered if I could, you know, touch them. Was that what Lord Death was trying to tell me?' The little plant in front of Sigh gave off a small, mindless aura that was a veneer and healthy green. It was closer to the host than the auras of actively alive creatures, but Sigh didn't want to try this on anything –or anyone- without having a test subject.

The young Wiccan took a breath and reached a steady hand forward. The aura immediately latched onto her fingers like it was eager for her company. It was warm in her fingers but she didn't absorb it like she had done to her previous subjects. They had wilted a bit and it took days to earn back their energy and life. She had to learn to take less, she knew.

For this flower she twisted its aura, spiraling her fingers up and watching it follow. The plant responded immediately, perking up and reaching for her hand. More flowers and stems appeared, healthy green and incandescent like the cactus Kid remembered from the alleyway. The plant grew so large it shattered the pot, soil spilling onto the table. Sigh didn't seem to notice. A sort of peace had appeared in her eyes, a concentration that was almost tender as a sweet smile curled onto her face. She looked pleased with herself but more than that, she looked pleased with the little piece of life she had helped. The little plant was now much larger than any of its fellows could hope to be, but it seemed happy in a plant sort of way; emerald green and shimmering with the underlays of Sigh's assistance.

It was all too obvious when Sigh snapped back to reality; her eyes widened, her smile fell off, her hand retreated to her side. Kid wondered what he would have to do to see that look again. She looked up at him, an unreadable question in her eyes.

'That's…uh,' Sigh was staring at him intensely, pools of silver and mercury burning into him. His mouth was suddenly dry, too dry. 'That's amazing Sigh.' Because it really was. He honestly hadn't known she could accomplish so much in such a small amount of time. It was like she was born to do it, a bird meant to fly, and all she had to do was remember how to spread her wings again. And though he was happy for her this left him wondering if she would even need his assistance in the end.

'It should be,' she laughed and her eyes danced proudly 'took me all week to do anything cool like that. 'Fraid my other test subjects weren't so lucky. Though I am thinking of keeping plants. It would lighten up the room, don't you think?'

'Hm? Oh, yes. Maybe some cacti?'

'Only the flowering kind. And vines of some sort would be pretty.' Sigh looked at her plant lovingly. It was now at least a foot taller than it had been, long white roots reaching over the lip of the table as though seeking the soil it no longer had. A thought occurred to her and she gently lifted the plant into her arms. Filling the kitchen sink with water, she gently submerged the roots. That should last it until she bought a bigger pot.

'Anyway, that was just what I could do with a plant's aura,' she spoke to Kid as she perched on the couch's arm. 'I wonder what I could do with a bigger one. If I could, you know, do more. Manipulate more. Absorb more.' Kid moved to take a sip of his drink only to find the glass empty. Right. His mouth had been so dry previously. 'Father mentioned that, didn't he? The absorption of aura would enable you to use magic.' He eyed Sigh a moment. 'And I don't' suppose I have to remind you he noted that moderation was key?' The girl waved his comment away and spoke to dismiss it.

'Magic, then? I can do magic as long as I've absorbed aura?' She lifted a hand, lithe fingers extended to gently tug his empty glass from his hand. She balanced it on her palm and rested the tips of her fingers on the rims.

'_Mimi ni hapa. Kuja kwangu,' _she whispered and Kid had to lean closer to hear her. It was unlike any spell he had heard before, much longer and somehow holding more power. Sigh's soul leapt at the words and the tangy smell of strange magic was released into the air. Kid couldn't stop himself from muttering the phrase aloud, translating it from Swahili. 'I am here. Come to me.'

He didn't even know Sigh knew Swahili.

And neither did she. The spell had struck her, fast and hard, earlier in the week. She was having difficulty using the aura she had absorbed from the plants, difficulty trying to use it. And the spell just appeared to her. Like it had been there all along. Like it was a part of her.

_Pretty Woman with pretty eyes._

_Tamu ya moyo. Moja yangu ya thamani. Mdogo wangu msichana mzuri…_

The glass shook as though consumed by a miniature earthquake as Sigh forced power into it. The rim lit up with platinum light and overflowed, spilling a thick, ghostly mist into the glass. All at once, it took shape, folding and shaping into a long, vine-like plant that crept up the sides of the glass. Unlike the sweet pea, this one was ethereal and silvery, glittering like it was created from diamonds and humming with inner glow.

'Sigh-'

'Amazing, I know,' she hummed, stroking along her new plant gently. A vine wrapped about her arm, in love with its mistress.

'No. I've seen you do this before.' Her gaze snapped to him. She was confused. 'This is the first time I've ever done this.'

'No. It isn't.' Sigh looked at Kid carefully, like she was unsure if he was kidding or not. Her plant began to dissipate without her steady stream of magic and aura; before long there was nothing left in the glass. 'When?' Kid cocked his head to the side, adopted a strictly observational tone to tell Sigh of her exploits.

The night a witch had cornered her, Liz are her side.

What she had done to save them.

Sigh listened without interruption, face impossible to read as she slid from the arm of the couch to the cushions.

'And it was…bigger than this?' She held out the glass again, like she was seeing it for the first time.

'Quite.'

'Ahhh. Maybe I had some reserves from…before.' She never directly mentioned her amnesia, and Kid could tell it made her uncomfortable. 'I guess you did. Quite a bit, too.' Sigh gazed at the glass in her hand, eyes unreadable. She turned it, this way, then that, as if measuring the dimensions in her head and comparing them to the larger power Kid claimed she had. After a moment, she grinned widely. 'Hot damn,' she hopped from the sofa. 'At least I have a goal to shoot for now. And how big did you say it was?'

'It filled the alley.'

'Hot _damn._' She whistled and took the glass into the kitchen. She was whistling, content in her new discovery and wondering at her own ability to adapt. Madame often gave very good advice, but this seemed so easy to follow it was nearly unfair. Like she was underestimating her mother's words and misinterpreting them.

The smile fell from her face. Was there more? She hadn't even known what happened in the alley with Liz, had no memory of possessing or using such power. Wasn't that bad? Shouldn't she know?

There was still so much for her to figure out.

Kid didn't know what to do.

His excuse for coming to visit was now gone, as the young woman had displayed her abilities quite nicely. He had been almost hopeful she would need his assistance, but the progress made when she was working alone had far surpassed his expectations. So now what? Was he to simply leave, excusing himself awkwardly from her presence in order to slink back to his home? No, something about that thought felt too much like a retreat, like submission. Besides, it wasn't like she had asked him to go. She actually seemed quite accepting of his presence and didn't mind him residing in her home.

Damn these twisted thoughts! Pondering his next actions should not be this difficult.

'Do you like ice cream?' His voice came forth before he could stop it and he saw Sigh jump. Perhaps he had spoken louder than he intended. 'Yeah,' she looked at him oddly 'I thought everybody liked ice cream.'

'Yes. I mean most people do, I assume, but there are always those outliers…'Sigh frowned in confusion leaning on the doorway that separated her little kitchen and her little living room. 'I guess. I'm sure there are studies we could reference in order to support that thesis. Perhaps hold a survey and calculate the percentile based upon the empirical scale.'

'Yes, well, I was only asking _you _if you personally enjoyed it.' Sigh shrugged.

'And I said yes, I do.'

'Well then,' Kid stood and Sigh noticed that he wasn't wearing his jacket or tie today. He instead wore a simple button down with the top button open, black slacks and black tennis shoes that could pass for dress when the lights were low. 'Would you like to get some? Ice cream, that is?' Sigh's face lit up because, in simple terms, she loved ice cream more than life. But she reeled herself in, playing it cool. 'Hm?' she responded as though the answer really didn't matter. 'Sure, I guess. Are you buying?'

'Since I invited you I guess I have to.' The girl smiled widely, scurrying over to her sandals as though scared Kid would change his mind. 'Cool! Let's go!'

Double scoop of strawberry cheesecake, smothered in chocolate syrup and peanuts, topped with whip cream and a very random cherry. Kid's order wasn't quite as ordinate, as the young man had much simpler tastes when it came to frozen desserts. He nibbled at his cherry ice cream in genteel contrast to the ravenous way Sigh was devouring hers as they walked. They had no goal in particular as they wandered the city. Sigh was fascinated by how intricate the structures were, the way one building could flow seamlessly into the next while another would look completely out of place.

The entire architecture of Death City seemed to be based on lines and angles, shape and yet teasingly smooth. The entire city was built on a large incline with Shibusen sitting at the top of the little mountain made of buildings. One would think the city would be cramped or overpopulated, but it seemed to have plenty of space. It was fascinating although she could see herself getting lost if left to wander alone.

'Sigh?' she grunted in response as her thoughts were interrupted. 'Do you recall telling me that you could see aura?' A purple eyebrow bobbled sassily. 'I should. It was only, what, half an hour ago?' The young reaper bit back an equally sarcastic response; he always seemed to get distracted by the girl's games. 'Does that mean you can see mine?' she paused to look at him, a small stream of cream dribbling from the corner of her mouth. She didn't seem to mind it, although Kid had to force himself to look her in the eye instead of watching it curve about her bottom lip.

'Yes,' she said slowly, unsure of his motives. The boy reaper nodded to confirm her words to himself. 'I'm curious as to what it looks like.' Sigh's eyes widened a bit. No one had ever asked her to describe an aura before. But, then again, no one had known of her rather peculiar talent until now. She supposed it was only natural that one would be curious about an aspect of themselves they couldn't see.

'It's black,' the girl responded simply after deciding how best to put it. Kid wrinkled his brow in an attempt to understand. 'Black?'

'Yes.' And then, realizing this warranted a better description, Sigh spoke again. 'Not like flat black. Like…deep black. Space black. Or like a dark room filled with…puppies.'

'…puppies?'

'It seems pretty harmless. And it's really big. And friendly.'

'My aura is…friendly?' Kid seemed both surprised and flattered by this definition. 'Yes. It seems very…dominating though. It likes to surround things and seems fond of jumping me whenever I'm in range.' Kid stiffened for some unseen reason. 'So it likes to…to touch you?'

'Yes, I suppose. I just take that to mean that you like me a bit more than you used to.' Kid was suddenly occupied by his ice cream, allowing the conversation to die. When he spoke again the topic had changed and Sigh had begun working at her cone.

'Would you like to get dinner while we're out?' Sigh looked up at Kid in surprise.

'Dessert before dinner? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were becoming corrupted, Young Master.' Kid shook his head with a small smile that Sigh, after a moment of thought, decided suited his face. 'Ice cream just isn't enough for you,' he watched her take another hungry bite 'right now.'

'Omph ooo nisht,' the girl said around a mouth full of ice cream cone. If he was paying she really didn't care. She just hoped he didn't take her to some fancy restaurant. She wasn't dressed for such a thing. She would have reminded him of this fact had two little blonde heads not appeared before them.

Sigh hadn't seen much of either Fire or Thunder (although she had the impression they were never seen one without the other) since she met them, and she would be lying if she said a smile didn't leap onto her face at the sight of the two. They immediately shot forward upon noticing her, little brown hands coiling in her blouse as blue doe eyes gazed up at her.

'Fire? Thunder? Wha?' Kid seemed confused at the affection the two held for Sigh. She shook her head and placed her free hand on blonde locks. 'They like me. Always have. I don't know why…' she shrugged but Kid looked thoughtful.

'Sigh, you do know they're Earth Shaman?' The girl looked at Kid curiously. 'What to the who now?'

'Earth Shaman. Linked to nature and all who serve it.'

'Right…why are you telling me this?' The reaper looked at her meaningfully and she looked right back. 'I don't see what being Earth Shaman has to do with…oh.' Because Earth Shaman were linked to nature in a fashion that was not unlike being a Wiccan, perhaps the two were unconsciously attracted to Sigh's very presence. They must have felt what she was upon first meeting her and, in the overeager way that children often had, greeted her as enthusiastically as possible. 'Hey…do you guys know what I am?' Sigh whispered to the twins, receiving blank stares in return. Kid chuckled quietly.

'They…don't talk much. Although I don't think they realize just why they like you so much…yet.'

'Hey guys, why'd you run of-' Kilik came striding up the street behind his weapons, groceries in hand. Sigh smiled at him, and tried to ignore the light hissing noise Kid's aura seemed to be making.

'What's up? Haven't seen you in a while.' Kilik smiled at Sigh, blatantly ignoring Kid's presence. Maybe he had yet to forget the altercation from their last meeting. In any case, the grim reaper's aura continued to lash and snap menacingly on the sidelines even as Kilik's arrogantly pushed itself forward. 'Nothing much. I just scored some free ice cream and was thinking of the same price for dinner.' Kilik smiled wider. 'Well you know you could just join us for dinner. I was on my way back home anyway and I don't think Fire and Thunder would mind it.'

On the contrary, the twins' faces lit up at the prospect of the young woman join them. And her answer would have been quite hasty –a very fast and very happy 'yes'- if Kid's essence hadn't suddenly expanded and latched onto her. It startled Sigh so bad she jerked in response, head turning to look at kid so fast she thought her neck would snap.

'Kid,' she said slowly, gaining his attention. His eyes were impassive, friendly even as he smiled. But his aura couldn't lie, and it was _livid. _'What about it? Feel like some good ole fashioned home cooking?'

_No! _His aura seemed to howl. Sigh wondered if her acknowledgement of the essence was the reason it seemed so much more prominent than before. Kid shrugged, shoulders unnoticeably stiff. 'I don't see any reason why you shouldn't join them, Psyche. But I just remembered that my father wanted to see me at the school tonight.' It wasn't a total lie. The older reaper had wanted to see his son at some point for important matters. But Kid had been willing to put off his father a few moments more if he would be allowed to be alone with Sigh.

'Oh?' Sigh was confused; he hadn't mentioned anything about a meeting before this point. 'Okay.' At her words, Kid turned on his heel and walked away, waving an uncommitted goodbye over his shoulder.

'Did I do something wrong?' Kilik asked once the reaper was out of earshot. Sigh shook her head. 'Nah, he's been in a really pissy mood all evening,' she lied through her teeth, uncertain as to why she was defending Kid's behavior. 'Not even ice cream could get through to him. So,' and the previous topic was dismissed as the girl looped her arm through Kilik's and shook off Kid's strange reaction to Kilik. 'What's for dinner?'

Sigh had to admit, she would not have known Kilik could cook just by looking at him. He looked like one of those boys who spent all their time on one physical activity or another, not really bothering with such household chores as cleaning and cooking. But the apartment he shared with Fire and Thunder was tidy in a lived-in way, spelling of air freshener and lemons. It was dusted and swept, the curtains on the window open to look out at the city. Their furniture actually looked better than Sigh's and there were placemats on the table where Fire and Thunder sat; one was a picture of a rocket ship, the other a daisy.

Sigh shook off her shock as she left her shoes by the door. She supposed Kilik had seen it as necessary to learn house keeping with his weapons relying on him like they did. He was basically both their meister and their caregiver, and he seemed committed to both positions. She held new respect for the young man as he retreated to the kitchen, leaving Sigh to amuse herself by playing with the twins.

Kid was right. The two weapons really weren't much for words. They seemed to communicate with each other through looks and gestures, though they were willing to utter a few mumbled noises for Sigh's benefit. She played with both race cars and dolls, chasing the two kids around the living room as part of their play. When they grew bored with that Sigh told the two weapons stories of her adventures in Las Vegas; her life living at Forbidden Fantasy was nothing but a fairy tale to them. She left out the more…_mature _parts, but felt free to coax giggles out of the two with tales of her own clumsy misunderstandings and the terrifying force that was her mother.

'If you two ever want to visit just tell me. There's a park there with a HUGE slide and a candy shop with so much candy it's _dripping _from the ceiling!'

'Ooooo,' cooed Thunder.

'Ahhhh,' hummed Fire.

'And my mom would love you two. She really does like company…although she would never admit it.'

Kilik prepared what he called pilau rice and beef for dinner. It was very good and Sigh was very impressed. 'You should be more careful who you tell about your talents, Kilik,' she teased 'girls love a guy who can cook.' The African boy smirked. 'Yeah? Is that all you look for in a guy?'

'Me? Hell no. But it's always a plus when someone can cook authentic African cuisine.' The girl chuckled and merrily ate another spoonful. 'Seriously though, give me this recipe or face my wrath.'

Kilik watched her eat for a moment, wondering if it was alright to ask if she was alright. Surely she hadn't forgotten the last time they had seen each other and the bad way they separated. A part of him was dying to know why Lord Death had summoned her; another part was weary of the answer. 'I think it's only right I tell you,' the girl interrupted his thoughts as those she could tell what he was thinking. And she could…sort of. There was deep uncertainty in his aura, a slight discomfort beneath the amiable warmth. She could only guess at the cause.

'Cause I think we're friends Kilik. Although I would totally understand if you kicked me out and burned everything I've touched.' Kilik laughed a bit uncomfortably. 'I don't think anything you can say will startle me so much, Sigh.' _Not after what I saw you do before_ he mentally added.

The girl shrugged with confidence she didn't have and lifted her hand before she could change her mind. '_Mimi ni hapa. Kuja kwangu_,' she only used a tiny bit of aura from her dwindling reserves to create a small but very obviously glowing vine that looped about her finger. It clung to her knuckles for support as it laced through her fingers, weaving between the spaces like a living row of rings. She turned her hand and let it slide free, where it landed on the table and made a very plausible rendition of a daisy.

Fire and Thunder burst into applause, cooing happily. Sigh translated that into acceptance on their part, and stared at their still-startled meister.

'I'm, uh….sorta a Wiccan. So…yeah…'"

The narrator checked her watch, the pile of finished papers sitting beside her. "Well," she said gamely "it's five on a Friday afternoon. I imagine I should stop now so you can all go start your respective weekends?" the crowd stirred uncertainly, looking at each other. Over time the students had not only been joined by children from the street, but a few meandering adults as well. The occasional man on his way home from work or a tired housewife hoping for a few moments to simply get lost in a story. The original audience had doubled and the storyteller had to try harder and harder to be heard in the belfries, as it were.

"A little more!" a female student in the front row finally spoke. She had hair that was very light blonde and pulled back into two low pigtails. Her eyes were a deep brown that reflected red in the direct sunlight. "Since it's the weekend we don't really have to do homework just yet."

The speaker chuckled. "I suppose not. Those of you who wish to go may. I won't blame you." No one left. The narrator started again.

"Sigh returned to work the next day without missing a step, sliding into the mansion early the in the morning and cranking out breakfast before anyone was up. The first to stumble down, brought by the smell of pancakes, was Patty. As usual the blonde's hair was a frizzy nest on top of her head. Her big blue eyes were still blurry with sleep and she still wore the large night shirt she used for pajamas. People would be surprised to learn the bubbly younger Thompson was not a morning person; ironically, it was her older sister that was always up and ready to go first thing in the morning.

Sigh nodded in greeting, placing a glass of orange juice and the pistol's personalized plate in front of her. Sigh had used green dye today, making the pancakes lime green. A sunny side up egg and a slice of bacon made a Cyclops face that stared up at the drowsy girl. 'You sleep well?' The younger Thompson grunted in response, lifting a forkful of syrupy 'eyeball' to her mouth.

Liz came next, looking much more awake than her younger sister. She was also in her pajamas but her hair was up in a long ponytail. She smiled at Sigh and sat to a breakfast that consisted of a single pancake and scrambled eggs.

'Morning, Liz.'

'Morning.' The kitchen was allowed to drift into companionable silence, the only noise the sound of forks on plates and the gentle drip of the coffee maker. 'So,' Sigh spoke, leaning on the counter across from the dining girls. 'Anything I need to know before I start cleaning? Any surprises? There aren't any more homemade volcanoes I need to look out for,' she leveled a playfully stern look at Patty 'right?' The younger Thompson giggled and shrugged. 'Or broken nail polish bottles in the bathroom?' The soft glare turned to Liz, who gave a sheepish smile.

'Honestly,' Sigh shook her head and placed her hands on her hips, 'you two will be the death of me.'

'Kid tells us that every day.'

'Speaking of which,' Sigh let her eyes drift to the doorway as it remained empty. 'Where is Kid?' Usually he was the first to come down, fresh faced and hair combed like he had never been asleep in the first place. Or maybe he was such a neat freak he even slept in a respectable position. Sigh snorted at the picture of him lying in bed perfectly still, fully dressed, his hands crossed in front of him like a vampire in a coffin.

Liz waved her hand at Sigh's question while swallowing a bit of water. 'He went to Shibusen early this morning. His father wanted to see him.'

'Wasn't that last night?'

'Lord Death was in a meeting last night.' So Kid had lied about his father needing to see him urgently. Sigh stowed that information away for later consideration. 'Geez. Don't they ever talk at home like a normal family? What could be so important?' And then she sneezed.

'So this kishen egg was searching for Sigh in particular?' Kid asked incredulously, hands in his pockets as he looked up at his father. 'He probably didn't even know who she was! She lived in Las Vegas her whole life.'

'Not her _whole _life, Kid. Just the parts she can remember. Madame didn't find her until she was an older child, and who knows where she had been in the meantime.' Lord Death had a rough idea thanks to Madame's newspapers, but there were still major gaps in the timeline of Sigh's life. 'And besides, it wasn't necessarily Harold Whittington that was searching for Sigh, but the locket he brought with him.' Kid frowned deeper, confusion growing.

'The…locket?'

'It appears to have the ability to possess a host and force them to commit to obey it. In this case, it wants Miss Sigh to die.' Kid bristled at that sentence, angry at a force that wasn't even present. 'Why? Do we even know why it wants to kill her?'

''Fraid not,' Lord Death said breezily, eyeing his son's reaction. 'Madame didn't allow it prolonged access to her mind. Not that it could overcome her, even if it tried. She's a very stubborn woman. I actually pity the poor locket, just imagining what she did to it to make it leave her alone. She can be very cruel at times-'

'That doesn't matter now! This could be a very dangerous artifact and you are acting like we are discussing the weather! Sigh's life is in danger! This is not a game, father! She could die while you sit here and tell stories!' Lord Death bobbed on his squiggle, watching Kid rile himself up.

'Well, well,' said the older reaper in amusement. 'I most certainly was not expecting that of my quiet and very respectful son. Tell me, young man who shouts impatiently at his father, where has my little Kid gone to?' Death the Kid colored in embarrassment, averting his gaze.

'I apologize, Honorable Father. I…I just,' Kid swallowed, as admitting weakness had always been very hard for him to do. 'I'm still under the sway of Allure. I know it's no excuse, but it holds me tighter every day. It keeps me from even imagining what would happen if she died. That if she was gone…I wouldn't be able to go on.' He shook his head. 'That's ridiculous, of course. People die every day; she's just another person who I need to protect. Just another person who is being victimized by magic. Nothing more.' Even as Kid spoke, a foul taste entered his mouth.

Lord Death wasn't sure if it was more appropriate to laugh out loud or frown deeply. This wasn't the worst confirmation of his life, but it certainly struck a blow. This road would not be easy for his son.

'Or,' the elder reaper drawled, regaining Kid's attention. The young man had been looking everywhere but at his father, ashamed of his outburst. 'She is a beautiful young woman with comparable intelligence and a lovely soul. Someone stubborn and fiery with the ability to make you want to scream at her and embrace her in the same action.' Lord Death leveled his son with a look of sincerity and knowledge. 'Her eyes are so beautiful you get lost in them. When you are apart, all you can think about is how to get close to her again. And heaven help the poor fool who attempts to take her away from you. You would tear their soul to pieces if it meant she would be safe.'

Kid didn't seem able to speak, his eyes wide and startled and his body frozen. He seemed to be on the verge of asphyxiation, his pale face even paler and his lungs clenching together in his chest. 'That's not…that's not it.' Kid was a terrible liar but he didn't like being read. Like this was so simple! 'Allure is the only reason I feel this way. Without it, she is just another girl.'

'Kid,' his father said gently. 'Reapers like us are highly resistant to Allure. So much so, it could be seen as immunity.'

'You think,' Kid swallowed hard 'you think…I'm in love with her?'

'I believe so, yes.'

Sigh stayed on the job longer than necessary that night. It wasn't that there was more to do (although Liz and Patty had royally wrecked their rooms in the time Sigh was on vacation) it was that she worked slower. She found herself mopping twice, rewashing clean dishes, re-dusting dusted shelves. She folded and refolded the laundry three times with an asinine precision that was akin to Kid's neurotic tendencies.

She willingly admitted to herself that she may have been waiting for the OCD reaper to return home. She had gotten used to the young man spontaneously appearing during her work, sitting in the room she was working in or happening by as she mopped. Sometimes he was able to coax her into conversation, other times he would simply exist. Just be a silent presence in the room that was somehow quite comforting in its steadiness.

Sigh discovered her loitering had been very obvious when Liz invited her (with a smile that bordered on mischievous) to watch a movie marathon with herself and Patty. Apparently the sisters owned all three of a very popular romance trilogy, and intended to watch them all in succession that night. Sigh was not particularly fond of movie romance. It was too silly often times, too easy to find love and acceptance from a simple glance across a room. But she agreed anyway and went to pop popcorn in the dark kitchen.

She must have fallen asleep. She woke up around midnight, the credits for the third movie rolling on the large screen television and the Thompson sisters snoring on the couch across from her. The girl took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, trying to get her bleary thoughts to make a linear pattern for her to think. It was really late, maybe too late to walk home. Perhaps it would be wiser to call a taxi? She winced at the thought of spending money to drive when she could walk, but honestly she couldn't think of anything else to do.

Unless she was to spend the night in the mansion.

Sigh gave a little noise of resignation, walking into the kitchen. Ah well. An impromptu sleepover wasn't so bad. At least she would be on time to work. Or early. What time had Kid designated her again? Whatever. In any case, she decided to lessen the irritation a young reaper was bound to have at her staying the night by making the greatest weakness of anyone who ever lived. Ever.

Cookies.

She might as well. She was awake now anyway and it wouldn't take her all that long. She pulled out a large mixing bowl and got started, content to leave a large pile of treats to be found the next morning. She wondered as she worked, curious if Kid had even returned home. It seemed to be normal for him to return home late upon occasion, as there were some duties of a grim reaper that his weapons could not assist him on. Liz and Patty seemed resigned to this knowledge, and showed no concern as to where their meister was or what he was doing. They had such confidence in him it was endearing.

But Sigh wasn't like that.

She wasn't worried but bothered. What could that boy possibly be doing that kept him out for nearly sixteen hours? Didn't he need sleep at _some _point? Sigh frowned to herself, plopping little balls of cookie dough onto the tray.

It occurred to her that perhaps he was avoiding her but she honestly couldn't think of anything she had done to warrant such a thing. Was he upset she had gone to eat with Kilik? That would be ridiculous! He had been invited as well but shirked out of it for reasons that were beyond her!

That boy was so confusing. Half the time he was angry for reasons she didn't understand, the other half he was pleasant and even somewhat charming.

_Charming? _She did _not _just call that asinine little prick charming! That was not to be tolerated after what the boy had put her through. He had thrown her entire life into chaos based on a single whim of his, a curiosity that was selfish and the result of a spoiled brat's demand. Honestly, if not for him she would still be in Forbidden Fantasy, facing no more trouble than deciding whether or not Saturday's costumes needed to be replaced or merely re-dyed. She would be Psyche LaBelle Éclair still, not whatever manner of person she had been in the past. She probably wouldn't even be curious about her previous life; she would be content with what she had and what she was.

Right?

'Do I smell cookies?' Sigh wasn't sure which factor was the one that startled her the most. Whether it was the fact that the previously silent mansion wasn't silent any longer, or that the voice that had shattered the quiet was perky and somehow caricatured.

Either way the young woman jumped three feet in the air, bashed her wrist on the counter and nearly upsetting the bowl of remaining cookie dough. She scolded herself for her strange behavior; was it really so odd to see Lord Death in his own mansion? He _lived _there for goodness sakes! She needn't slink around when he had to know she worked here.

She supposed the image was just strange to her because she was used to seeing him in his death room. The startling figure he cut in his black cloak seemed to fill the once spacious kitchen, his presence more than his physical being filling the air and making it almost stuffy. The rest of the room seemed to take on a surrealistic air that mirrored the appearance of Death himself. The ebony wood cabinets seemed grainier, rougher; the black refrigerator seemed abyssal black; even the dark marble of the counter tops seemed to absorb and reflect his essence.

Remembering that Lord Death had asked her a question, Sigh ceased her pointless gawking.

'Yeah. Chocolate chip.'

'Ah! My favorite! I hope you don't mind if I sit and wait for the first batch? It's always the best!' Sigh shrugged and willed the cookies to bake faster. It wasn't that she didn't like Lord Death (she actually found him to be very kind…so far) it was that she was concerned she would screw up and say something wrong. Stick her foot in her mouth and embarrass herself in front of the most powerful person she had ever met. It would be just her luck to offend the Grim Reaper.

'It's your kitchen, isn't it?' The reaper chuckled. 'Yes, I suppose it is.' Even as he spoke the egg timer went off and Sigh breathed in relief. 'Oh goody!' Lord Death slid onto a stool with a grace that one would not expect from a shadow of his size, clapping huge white hands with what would be childish joy had it been emanating from anyone else.

Sigh smiled a bit despite herself. 'Hold on, hold on. They have to cool for a few minutes first.' It was silent as she fished around for another cookie sheet, setting up the second batch as the first cooled. Lord Death was still behind her, a quiet that she interpreted as the reaper thinking very deeply. 'So what made you decide to work overtime, Miss Sigh?' the girl applauded herself for not starting. The reaper probably prided himself on startling people to death, thus completing his job.

Besides, he couldn't possibly know she was waiting for his idiot boy to come home.

'It just sorta happened,' she slowly began to pry the first batch of cookies from their sheet, careful not to break them as she placed them on a serving platter. 'I fell asleep here after work. I just woke up a while ago.'

'I see.'

'It's really unlike me,' she lamented 'I've just been really tired lately from all the practice I've been putting in.'

'Yes. I can see you have starting melding your magic together.' Sigh bit her lip as she turned to face Death.

'Really? I don't think I look all that different.' Sigh smiled a bit as she placed the cookies before Lord Death, wondering how he would eat them through his mask. 'Ah, but you do. And once you learn how to see clearly, you will see the change as well.' Lord Death made no move towards the plate, merely looking at Sigh intensely. She squirmed under the hard gaze. 'Will I like what I see, Lord Death?'

'That is not up to me, Miss Sigh. Although I can tell you one thing,' he leaned forward as though to share a secret, and Sigh held no qualms over leaning towards him. The room dropped several degrees, and she was close enough to snatch his mask from his face. 'These cookies need milk.' Sigh blinked at the whimsical statement he had said in a serious tone. It was so like him; she was beginning to grow accustomed to his eccentricities.

She laughed, unconcerned with whether or not it was proper to do so. 'Yes,' she hummed warmly 'they do.' As she turned to walk back to the refrigerator she heard the reaper lift one of the cookies from the platter. 'I should warn you,' she sighed, pouring two glasses 'I'm not the best baker in the world. That position belongs to Madame, although I run a close second.'

'So I can taste,' the thought of Lord Death talking with his mouth full would be ridiculous to some, but Sigh couldn't help but think it suited the reaper. It went along quite nicely with the image of a small cookie held between two giant fingers.

'It's not my fault! She refuses to give me her secret cookie…recipe…' Sigh's eyes grew to the size of saucers as she turned around. She had to remind herself not to drop the two chilled glasses in her hands.

She wasn't sure what to expect from Lord Death, and he never ceased to surprise her. She was more and more certain he took joy in the act, as it can be the only source of entertainment to be had after living as long as the reaper had. It must have been some sort of twisted hobby of his, concocting different ways to stem different reactions from innocent people. Standing there in a getup that perfectly disguised his emotions while also being shockingly intimidating.

Sigh, like many others, had once speculated what the reaper was hiding beneath his mask and cloak. Her guesses had ranged everywhere between the reaper being nothing but a living shadow (in which case she had imagined he would be able to absorb the cookies through his mask. It was funnier in her head then it would be in reality, she supposed) and the reaper being a large skeleton (scary and rather unpleasant to think about). But, as previously stated, the master of death was constantly doing what was least expected of him.

He looked younger than one would expect from a being that was over eight hundred years old. He didn't look that much older than his son; they could have been brothers. They had the same build through the face, the same noble chin and regal nose, although Lord Death's eyes were slightly wider than Kid's. He was, to Sigh's surprise, not a dark haired person like his son but a strawberry blonde, hair shimmering gold and copper in the light of the kitchen. Three completed rings ran through tresses that were messily tossed about his scalp, one pale hand holding up his pale face as he took a large bite from a cookie and watched Sigh.

His eyes were what startled her the most. Instead of the same, inhuman yellow that Kid possessed, Lord Death had green eyes. Shades that could never be seen in the eyes of man, but green all the same. The outer ring was a light shade of lime that encircled a deep emerald shimmering with both wisdom and mirth. It was in his eyes that Sigh could see his age, the piles of power and experience this being before her had gathered over the years. It was both terrifying and fascinating to Sigh as he seemed to stare right through her.

He finished his cookie and reached for another.

'Come on now. The milk with get warm and the cookies with get cold.' Hearing the handsome young man in front of her speak in the same silly tone as Lord Death snapped Sigh from her shock. She frowned deeply at the smirking reaper, setting the glasses before him. 'You must have known that would shock me,' she sniffed 'it's not fair to get demanding.' Lord Death shrugged. 'Alright, Miss Sigh. But how else was I to eat if not removing my mask?' Sigh pouted and glared. She noted that he was wearing jeans and a green polo shirt, tennis shoes on his feet. He looked more like a college student than the master of darkness.

'So the removal of your mask requires the removal of your cloak as well?' He gave her a look that could only be described as sly, gesturing to the floor. Upon it lay a slithering mass of shadows beneath the usual skull he wore as a mask. It was easy to see the two items were connected. 'Still,' the girl continued to pout even as she began to nibble a cookie 'a bit of forewarning would have been nice.'

'Why?' The reaper cocked his head and frowned slightly, although the mirthful look remained in his eyes. 'Am I hideously ugly? Why has no one bothered to tell me before? Well, maybe because I am Death, and it would be outlandishly uncomfortable for someone to walk up to me and call me ugly. Especially when they haven't seen my face…but you're typically honest Sigh. And you are seeing my face. Am I ugly?' He gave her a heartbreaking grin, one that made his face light up happily. Sigh wondered if she could get Kid to make that same expression as she sipped at her milk.

'Stop fishing for compliments. It's unseemly. Sir.' The reaper hummed in amusement.

'Of course.'

'And you can't blame me for my reaction. How many people see the face of death and walk it off?'

'I see my face every morning and I hold on just fine.'

'Look-'

'And the city folk seem to do pretty well too. Admittedly, I wear a disguise when I wander the streets –sunglasses, a wig- but it's worth it just to be able to look on my city as a person and not,' Sigh jerked as his aura surged with power. Black tendrils in the shape of little skulls crept about his body and the black of his eyes narrowed to a pinpoint as the shadows on his face grew more prominent. 'Lord Death.' Sigh shook off her fear. Death was once again playing with her; she looked at him blankly. 'So you occasionally walk the streets like this?' he popped back to his carefree self instantly, green eyes wide and innocent looking. It was very deceitful, Sigh grumbled mentally.

'More or less. You've probably seen me before and don't know it.'

'How very clever of you.'

'Sarcasm? Do remember who you are talking to, Miss Sigh.' And though he spoke in jest, Sigh averted her eyes and mumbled an apology. He was the master of death, after all, and such a position warrants respect.

The reaper seemed to take amusement in Sigh's discomfort and she shot him a dirty look not two seconds after her lamentation. Lord Death only smiled wider. 'Oh, I like you,' he clucked gaily 'spirit! Such a lovely thing to see. It certainly makes the soul pop out at reapers. It makes it,' he widened his eyes comically and waved his hands about 'three dimensional.'

Sigh shook her head. 'I just don't get you,' she admitted remorsefully. 'It's hard to tell when you're being serious and when you're teasing. You are too confusing.'

'Really? I understand me quite well. I think I'm very fun.' Sigh laughed a bit. 'Combined you and Kid are going to give me an aneurysm.'

'Ah, yes,' Lord Death's eyes flashed seriously, smile decreasing a watt. 'Kid can be quite a handful. Sorry about that.' Sigh frowned at his apology. 'No. He's old enough that he can apologize for his own mistakes. Seriously! He is an enigma on a whole other level. He nitpicks, nags, and seems to enjoy pushing my buttons. His whole world is centered around making everything as difficult as possible and he seems to take great pleasure in confusing the Hell out of me.

But then he turns around and treats me to ice cream. Or makes me laugh or smile and then everything is hunky dory easy peasy and I'm left confused. One minute he's happy, the next he's mad and I have no idea how we got from one point to the next! And heaven only knows he won't tell me!'

Sigh honestly didn't know it annoyed her to this extend until she spoke. She knew she was being silly for feeling like this –she was Kid's maid, not his fretting wife- but it wasn't right for the young reaper to just hold a grudge for something she wasn't sure she did.

The bastard could at least just come out and say when he was mad at her instead of making her guess at his emotions.

'He's such a headache. I bet he's upstairs in his room now, sleeping. Probably not even fazed. Probably just enjoying his little victory. This is what he wants, right? For me to have a meltdown anticipating his tantrum? I'm just wigging out over nothing, as usual, because tomorrow he'll be hovering over my shoulder again, both to teach me how to fold "perfectly" and to ask my opinion of Roman Common Law when compared to Anglo Saxon.' Sigh snorted. 'Sometimes I hate that silly boy.'

'And other times?' Lord Death was looking at Sigh in a wat she couldn't describe, his voice low and cautious when he spoke. The joking was completely removed from his face, eyes focused and mouth set in a serious expression. Sigh wondered if she had offended him with her blatant reprimanding of his son, but he didn't look offended. He looked somewhat resigned. And she could have sworn there was a twinge of worry in the green sea of his eyes. She frowned in confusion as she responded to his question awkwardly. 'I don't. Other times I just don't.'

Lord Death looked at Sigh. Sigh looked back.

'I see.'

'Yeah.' Sigh wondered when this staring contest was going to end. She figured Lord Death would be the victor, but couldn't find it in herself to simply look away and surrender. Especially when he was still looking at her in such a solemn manner; it was unnerving enough facing such a gaze head on. To feel it burning into her scalp would be nauseating.

Eventually Lord Death visibly relaxed. The sparkle came back to his eyes, whether forced or unconscious, and he lifted another cookie from the plate as he stood from his stool. 'Well Miss Sigh, it's quite late and we both have work tomorrow.' He was smiling again. 'Would you like me to walk you home? A young woman should not wander the streets alone so late.'

And so Sigh let Death walk her home. It wasn't nearly as awkward as one would assume. The reaper left his cloak and mask in his kitchen and easily engaged Sigh in conversation. He asked her about her hobbies, her favorite books and shows, what colors she favored. She modestly kept trying to steer the conversation back to him but he would always shoo away her efforts; it was essential for Lord Death to maintain an air of mystery, she supposed.

He walked her all the way back to her door, and Sigh looked at the apartment next to hers wearily. She was glad that neither Maka nor Soul seemed to be night owls, as it would be difficult to explain why a strange man was escorting her home so late. She smiled and Lord Death and nodded her head in a shallow bow. 'Thank you, Lord Death. Goodnight.' To her surprise, Lord Death mirrored her action, granting her a small nod. 'And a very goodnight to you, Miss Sigh.' He turned to leave but Sigh stopped him.

'Ah! If you see Kid…I mean, he's your son and you live in the same house so of course you'll see him. So, _when _you see Kid could you tell him…you know…I'm sorry.' She shuffled nervously. 'I mean, I don't know why. Or if I even have to apologize for something that he's upset about. Though I guess I should…or maybe he should apologize? Gah! Forget it! Goodnight!' She wrestled her apartment door open and was gone, mumbling grumpily to herself.

Lord Death looked after her a moment longer before leaving.

'Ah, to be young and very confused.'"


	11. Chapter 11

**BB says: **Ugh. So very tired…exams…job…*dies*

**Rating: **Teen

**Disclaimer: **I own no part of…damn it just read the chapter.

**BB says some more: **I've recently decided (although this is of no consequence in this current chapter) that I will be making a sequel. Or maybe a part two? Either way, it'll be a separate story, assumedly rated M, and it is a long ways off. And this chapter sort of became a monster. It's huge! I warn you, it will take a while to read. I recommend settling down with a cup of tea and some free time.

**Shut up, BB: **Friend _Nairad! _Thank you for the review! I wish I could message you (which is where I would usually send my thanks) but is being a butt right now.

"He actually liked these moments of peace, ones that could only come from two friends sharing a moment of serenity. Just tea and a table and maybe some cookies, letting silence fall were it may and listening to the air vibrate with companionship. Forgetting the stress of his station just for a moment, putting off meetings and ignoring paperwork as he let his hair down (figuratively of course. He had cut his long hair back in the seventies). He was an old man, after all, and the elderly are quite fond of simply sitting and allowing the world to float by around them.

A nostalgic bone was rung in his body, for he could remember a time when someone so much more than a friend would share these moments with him. Someone with a quiet voice and big hazel eyes and a demure demeanor behind bangs of ebony brown. He would smile and laugh and she would giggle and sigh and her soul would hum with contentment. Flighty hands made of bird-bones and ivory flesh that had once fit so perfectly in his deathly chilly fingers. She had become so much of what he was in so little time he had felt cheated at her passing. Cheated out of the eternity he would have given her, ignoring the laws he was governed by and refusing to take her at the end of her natural life. He would have let her live at least as long as he, let her see the world through timeless eyes and continue to keep him warm and happy through the long cold centuries.

He had been a bit resentful, angry she had left him with a smile on her face.

Her beautiful smile swathed in her infinite grace.

It was all so wonderful. It was still so painful.

He cleared his head of such fantasies, of such longings for the past.

North sighed, catching Death's attention. They sat in his death room, a table between them and a cookie crumbs in the wind's scruffy beard. He wore his usual garb of layer upon layer of loose flowing fabric, Grecian sandals upon his feet and leaves in his hair. He brought with him the smell of the sun, of beaches and plains, fields and jungles. He brought the smell of pollution and man, a scare on his index finger from where he had caught himself on a windmill.

It was a funny story to be told, one in which the wind had become infatuated with a human woman whose family owned a mill in Belgium. Thusly distracted, North had gotten the fabric of his clothing snatched by a kink in the wood and was tossed about rather roughly in his attempts to impress his lady love.

Not that it was for naught. She became the mother of his only child, Zephyr, before she died of natural causes in 1843.

Lord Death made a note to invite Zephyr for a play date with Kid. Were they too old for that now? All he knew was that it had been years since the two youngsters had crossed paths.

Death was not wearing his cloak, allowing the supernatural fabric to sit in a pile on the floor beside him. It twitched and curled as though searching for him, the mask that sat upon it glaring at him accusatorily. He almost made a face at it in order to make the point that he was Death, and Death could walk around _naked _if he damn well pleased.

He wondered if it would be so terrible to allow someone other than another immortal see his face. To let them look him dead (no pun intended) in the eye and dare to see anything more or less than what he was. What else was there? He knew he was atheistically pleasing despite his rather unassuming appearance. He had been mistaken, in his city excursions, as a student of his own school before, or an intern simply popping in to see Lord Death. What harm could there be in foregoing his mask and cloak and simply letting his students and citizens gaze upon him?

He supposed he simply knew better than to reveal his face to public scrutiny. Humans, mortals, were so fickle. His mystery was part of their terror of him and they must never forget their fear of death.

For on that path lies madness.

But for a friend such as North, Death left his face uncovered. Though North was the youngest and he the eldest Death had found that he had much in common with the wind. They had both had developed breezier attitudes than their peers -due to their close interactions with humans- and they shared wisdom based upon their willingness to adapt. Their willingness to continue learning and observing, despite their age.

Death understood that North had experiences he himself lacked, that the wind was more free than anyone could ever hope to be. North had traveled the world more times than there were drops in the ocean and was righteously gifted with sights that could make one both recoil and smile.

How many weddings had he seen?

Planes sent plummeting through the air?

Homes had he destroyed?

Kites lifted?

The wind was like death. Powerful and necessary, carrying a burden that was left misunderstood. Unlike North, Death had his share of wisdom not from observation but from interaction. He spoke with mankind, touched them, lifted their souls from the empty husks of their bodies. He knew fear on a personal level, had watched lust and desire destroy nations and hatred breed demons. North had watched. Death had felt. Together they had learned.

They were not biased or proud like the Fates, nor were they strictly linear and tied down like Time. They simply accepted this race that maintained the majority control of the earth and knew for a fact that it would take a millennia for them to evolve beyond anything but war mongering fools.

But they still had _hope_.

'Earl Grey? If I didn't know better I'd say you were spoiling me, Death.' The reaper smiled at his friend, sipping his tea. 'You're being selfish again North. Earl Grey was my favorite before it was yours. You are copying me, as usual.' The wind snorted but could find no response. It had indeed been Death who introduced him to the lovely nature of tea.

'And how are your brothers? West and East still fighting?' The wind winced. 'Yes. South and I believe we have no choice but to go about our business and hope they figure it out.' He shook his head of long, shaggy hay hair. 'They've come to a head recently. I believe in the southeast of…damn it, what is the name of this land mass again?'

'The United States of America, North. You should know this.'

'If I remembered every change of names humans give land I would go mad. As soon as I memorize this one, it will have vanished into dust. You are truly amazing for keeping track, Death.' He shrugged. 'In any case, they can expect cold weather. Colder than usual for April. I'm going to stay far away. Maybe Burma.'

'Now named Myanmar. There was a coup d'état and the new junta renamed it.' North threw up his hands in mock frustration. 'See what I mean? However do you keep track?' Death didn't want to point out that in every war death is a player. He had not been there in person but he had felt the loss of life, the sudden shift in the air, and had placed his ear to the ground to seek out the cause. Just another war. And wars built nations. Death smiled mysteriously, glad his friend could see it.

'In any case, Death, how are you? Did you figure out your little visitor? What dastardly deed she is up to?' The reaper hesitated, mulling over how to answer. 'Stop that. Don't leave anything out, you old goat.' Death chuckled at being found out. 'Alright, alright. Don't get your breezes in a bunch.' He sipped his tea. Slowly. North growled but Death ignored the noise. There was so much to say and yet he felt strangely pressed for time. They both had duties after all. He wondered if the weathermen of Iceland were confused at the still nature of the day.

'The girl is a wiccan. Like we assumed.'

'You don't seem happy. I, for one, am usually overjoyed when I complete a difficult puzzle.' Death shrugged. 'Oh, I am quite content with this solution. She is not the threat I feared she would be.' At least, not to his city.

'Content?' Death hummed but didn't open his mouth again. He averted his eyes, thoughts once again wandering.

'Ah. You've been thinking about _her_.' Death snapped his gaze back to his friend, green eyes as hard as emerald chips. 'There's no use denying it, Death. What, may I ask, has you thinking along these dust coated lines?' The reaper shook his head. 'You are mistaken. You know how I detest looking back into the past, North.'

'And yet here you are.' The wind sighed and set his teacup down with a faint 'clink'. 'I'm not asking you to continue looking back. It is the present that concerns me. Believe it or not, your state of mind tends to impact the rest of us rather harshly.' North helped himself to another cookie. Death almost smiled; Sigh had made them. With a half-hearted scowl and fake murmurs of discontent. He assumed it was her way of protecting herself from possible rejection; she didn't want to seem too eager to please him. It wasn't like she could say no anyway. Not when he was standing before her, first thing in the morning with nothing but a charming smile on his face.

'You are more solemn than usual,' North continued 'and you made no attempt to encourage me to stem my brothers' argument. Hell, you didn't even notice I blew an out-of-season hailstorm into the Midwest of…this continent. Is it this girl?' North looked at Death carefully, but it was for naught. None can read Death's true nature, lest he will it so. The reaper's face was carefully impassive. 'This wiccan. What has she done that worries Big Brother Death?'

'The girl has done nothing. She is not at fault.'

'There is a rather large backside to that answer.'

'A what?'

'A "but".' Death sighed at the poor joke. 'She reminds me…of the past. Reminds me of what once was. I'm not sure if I like it.' The reaper hummed. 'I, of all beings, know that the dead must stay as such. The past is past and that is all. And yet it becomes difficult not to think back when I see myself in my son.

I look at him and I see _her _face. But I listen to him and I hear _my_ voice. _My _denial, _my _impatience, _my_ strict code of conduct. It's like the me of eight hundred years ago has returned, challenging everything I have built and everything I have become. And to play her part, to be the wrench in a long line of normalcy, has come the wiccan. Time has become muddled, with these two figures meeting so suddenly. I was much older than Kid, _I_ knew what I was doing. I faced denial and anger but I _knew._ This has happened…so much sooner than I thought it would. I am sadly unprepared. It caught me by surprise. Me! One who once thought he had everything under control, everything in order. Everything,' Lord Death smiled as his son's favorite saying came to mind. 'Absolutely perfect.' He shook his head.

'And this girl! She means no harm, that much is obvious, but one cannot deny their nature. I have never known a wiccan personally, and certainly never met _The _Wiccan, but I have known plenty of witches. They are shallow, vain creatures. They seek their own pleasure with no consideration for whom they may harm or what they may leave behind. You know of the late Medusa and her child?' North cringed. From both disgust as a fellow living being and disgust as a parent. Yes. He had heard of the witch monster and her mistreatment of her spawn.

'She was an anomaly,' the wind frowned 'and I doubt your wiccan is capable of such cruelty.' Death shrugged.

'That is an extreme example,' he admitted 'but also a bold testament to my concerns. She was willing to sacrifice everything, even a child of her body, for her goals. To fill her desire of spiraling the world into chaos and insanity. _That _is the undiluted self-gratifying nature of a witch at its purest.' North was silent, watching his friend with curious blue eyes. 'And she is not the only one. There are many stories of witches eating children, murdering their families, tormenting their lovers. Plural of course. Which leads to my second concern: witches are notoriously promiscuous.'

'You said the girl is not a witch. These concerns are void.'

'Yes, but I fear her return of affections, should they develop, will encompass the part of her that makes her a _relative_ of witches. That the genome they share will be the one that is also the urge to seek out new mates and new lives. That she will leave him with no concern for his wellbeing, that she will simply vanish into the night and scar him deep. I do not know what to do, I not know how to help him. How to help _them_.'

'You are so afraid your son shall suffer heartbreak?'

'Yes,' it was a whispered answer, partially ashamed 'more than I ever thought possible.'

After a moment of tense silence, North chuckled. 'You sound like a fretting parent, Death.' Lord Death tried to smile at his fellow. 'I suppose that is what I am. But he's fighting it, North. And it's just going to get worse if he can't face it down. He'll become more attracted, set higher to fall should she break him. I feel as though I should do more to help.'

'Actually, that is the opposite of what you should do. Would you have liked anyone impeding upon you and _her_ at any time? Would you have accepted perceived aid? You say he reminds you of yourself, so think along those lines. They'll fall together if it was meant to be. If they aren't, they won't. And you can do nothing to stop that. So stop being a cynical old woman. Stop fearing the worst when all signs point upwards from here on. _I_ think young love is a beautiful thing and should be treated as a treasure, not a bane.' North helped himself to more tea. Death sighed. 'I can't believe I looked to you for comfort.'

'Me neither.'

'Oh, just drink your tea and get out of my sight.'"

The narrator rubbed at a spot on her glasses as she continued.

"Sigh was curious about the man in front of her.

Or rather, three people in front of her. At the counter, buying cigarettes.

The convenience store was three blocks from her apartment, just close enough for her to crave a treat. Had it been even a block further, perhaps she would not have succumbed to the urge to wander out in her pajamas in search of a late night snack. Perhaps she would have stayed in bed and simply drifted back to sleep upon startling herself awake for a reason she still couldn't identify.

Ever since she began manipulating aura, using the magic she hadn't known existed within her, her dreams had become…disconcerting.

She began having cycles of memories, images that didn't seem to fit with who she was now. It wasn't the first time they had occurred; on the contrary, they were reminiscent of the dreams that she had faced every night for months after Madame took her in. It was like her mind was adjusting to its new life by shifting around the old to make room for the new. It was only now, after nearly a year in Death City, that this adjustment seemed to become the most extreme. Last minute cleaning, there was a frantic maid in her head piling old thoughts in a corner and shaking out a new rug.

And her mind didn't like it.

'Are you alright?' Sigh jumped a bit, realizing she had been staring rather obviously at the odd looking man. He now had a cigarette in his hand, the pack from whence it had come disappearing into his lab coat. The coat was odd too, Sigh noticed, as it was cross stitched in a patchwork way. Like it was comprised of the many fabrics of several coats. His entire outfit -shirt, pants, shoes- followed the same theme. What an odd man.

He cocked his grey haired head as he looked down at her, large round glasses catching the light. 'You have been staring at me for quite some time now.' Sigh shuffled awkwardly, wondering what she could say. She wished this damn line would go faster, but the man who was now at the counter was noticeably drunk.

And arguing over the price of a box of cereal.

'Well, yes,' she confessed lamely. 'I have been.' The man took a drag of his cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke that closely resembled a skull. Sigh wondered how he had done that. She had never seen Madame blow anything but shapeless masses. 'Is there a reason, aside from the obvious?'

'Obvious?'

'You're a brainless girl.' He said it with such abrupt finality that Sigh cringed. 'No, I'm sleep deprived. And you can't blame me for staring when you're dressed so oddly.' The man's lips twitched as though attempting to smile. His aura, the rolling grey of a powerful storm cloud, was amused. 'Am I?'

'Yes.' The man lifted his hand and began turning the large screw in his hand. Sigh watched in fascination. She had seen a lot of weird things, growing up in Las Vegas but never anything quite like _that._ She knew it was rude to point but she did so anyway. 'Doesn't that hurt?' He lowered his hand. 'Does it hurt?' Sigh nodded. She was at the counter now and she handed the droopy eyed cashier her purchase.

Dr. Stein watched the girl curiously, chewing on the end of his cigarette. It had simply been one of those antsy nights, when he either needed to cut something or take a walk. Obviously he had opted for the latter, leaving Marie (who fortunately slept like the dead) alone in bed. He had somehow wound up much deeper into the city than he had intended to be, and was surprised to find he had not brought his cigarettes. And though he was a logical man and logic dictated that he could simply wait until he returned home, another part of him was reminded that he was running low in any case. Might as well stock up. Besides, this place was one of the few places that held his favorite brand.

So there he had been, minding his own business and wondering if he should bother going to sleep that night when a breath of something strange caught his attention. It had breezed past him casually, a beeline for the back of the store where the freezers were held. Her soul's wavelength battered at him and mixed with a twinge of magic in the air. His eyes had snapped to her back, wondering what sort of witch would be careless enough to flaunt such a thing so openly. Should he kill her now, before she was aware? Or wait for her to acknowledge him?

She wasn't acting suspicious; her heavy brush of magic and chaos lacked the same flavor of destruction he had seen before.

Yes, this was quite odd for a witch.

Or maybe she was just another mutant, like Kim.

One who was both wicked and righteous?

She would be very rare, in such a case.

Curiosity nearly overcame him and his fingers twitched with an all too familiar desire.

_I want to cut her open._

'What do you think?' The young woman looked up at him. Her glasses were nearly as thick as his, he thought with amusement, but it was still possible to see her silvery eyes, wide with innocence. She looked younger than such heavy magic suggested. But didn't all witches?

'What do I think?' She repeated the question back to him and wondered when this had become a game of call and response. 'Do you think it hurts when I do this?' He gave his bolt a firm twist. She still looked confused as she accepted her ice cream (one of those ridiculous flavors that Marie would like) and moved towards the door. He followed because, hey, he had to leave too.

'No,' she said simply 'I think it tickles. It must jog your thoughts free very efficiently.' Stein exhaled another puff of smoke and pondered her response. She seemed earnest enough, another quality that was rare in witches but pointed towards her youth. Even her pajamas, threadbare flannel with little dogs on them, were rather juvenile. 'Alright. You're entitled to your opinion.' Sigh frowned in mild disappointment. 'So I guessed wrong?'

'There was no right answer.'

'Right.' By now they were out in the night air once more, desert chill clinging to Sigh. The man stood before her with the moonlight's bloody grin reflected in his lenses. Sigh wondered at the color of his eyes, what lay behind the mask he had so skillfully created using nothing but his glasses. She wondered if hers grated the same courtesy or if the man could see every little thought as it flickered through her irises.

If so, he would see the rising anxiety. The nervousness that blossomed from this prolonged conversation and his all too intense stare. Not the lecherous stare she was used to from those affected by her strange magic. This was something different…she would call it curious but it didn't seem harmless enough for the title.

'Well, it's been nice talking to you Mr…?'

'Dr. Stein.'

'Right. But I'm going to go gorge myself on ice cream, so…' Sigh turned, hoping against hope the strange man had to walk the opposite direction in order to return home. She could feel his unseen eyes burning into her back and did not hear him step off to walk away.

'What are you?' Dr. Stein spoke before she could get too far. 'Not quite flashy enough to be a witch and yet you're certainly not human.' his words stopped the young woman in her tracks. She supposed she should be grateful he hadn't just attacked her, as weirdoes were often wont to do. She could see no harm in telling him, especially if he had known enough to ask. 'I'm a Wiccan, Dr. Stein. Close to but not a witch.' Ah. That was it then.

He seemed to remember a rumor circulating the school about a strange young woman who had recently blown into town. Lord Death himself had commented on it, and though he was more or less hushed about her location and the details behind her arrival, he had allowed Stein the girl's species.

But she didn't have to know he knew who she was. He was curious as to just how far he could push her. How strong this anomaly of genes and magic was.

'Oh?' The smoke curled in front of his face, obscuring his lazy smile in a haze of smog. 'I don't think I've ever heard of that. Although you should really do something about your soul's wavelength.'

'We're supposed to be extinct. But we're not, as you can see. And there is nothing wrong with my wavelength.' She was wrong. She stunk so strongly of power and chaos it was hard to ignore it. A little part of him, the same part that was wriggling and twisting in the shape of slippery madness, found this to be appealing in a dangerous way.

_I want to cut her open._

'Are you the last?'

'I wouldn't know. And if I did, why would I tell you?' The silence that fell was heavy. Sigh turned to completely face the man, his aura suddenly unreadable. She felt her spine tingle and her muscles flex in preparation for either fleeing or fighting. She wasn't sure which she should attempt or if either would be very affective.

Dr. Stein's smile grew. 'I guess you're rare then? Something I'm not likely to come across again? I should take advantage of this opportunity.' Now Sigh knew something was wrong. He seemed to be relaxed but his aura was as taunt as a bow. Like a snake and its prey, he was coiling to strike. Her hands clenched. 'Opportunity for what?'

'To cut you open of course.' The casual way by which he spoke made Sigh do a double take. 'I'm sorry?'

'I would hate to let this rare opportunity get away from me. You've brought it upon yourself, really, by broadcasting your soul's wavelength everywhere.' He sighed. 'Not to mention the threat you pose in possession of magical potential like _that._' Sigh had no idea what he was talking about, but took a small step backward. He was very strong; every inch of her was screaming for her to flee.

And she would have, if not for the absolute certainty he would catch her.

He was fast. And strong. Sigh knew from the beginning she had no chance of winning against such an experienced opponent. He had hardly finished speaking before he was upon her, forcing her to go on the defense within the first few seconds of their fight. He seemed to have a martial arts all his own, one that easily countered the basis of dodging and weaving that Sigh had constructed into her own art.

'Capoeira?' he asked her as though she had not just lashed out with the intent to break one of his ribs. 'No. You've made it your own, haven't you? Something focused on both your strength as well as your speed and agility.' Sigh didn't respond although the mad doctor had struck the proverbial nail on the head.

He had to be the strangest kishin egg Sigh had ever met, normal enough to blend into the crowd without her noting him and able to contain his own bloodlust until he had her where he wanted her. Any other monster would have simply charged at her, civilians be damned, and would not have taken the time to speak to her. He didn't seem to be mutated in any way (save for the bolt through his skull) and though his aura was large and twisting it was not corrupted like the monstrosities she had seen before. It was very human looking with a zest of the eccentric. She sort of liked it. It was pretty and constantly in flux, moving like a huge grey kaleidoscope. Perhaps would have come to like the man, had he not been trying to kill her in a gruesome way.

She wove under his outstretched arm, colliding with his other hand and barely snatching herself away in time to avoid the full force of his powerful attack. She had already been struck once by what he called 'soul menace'. It had hit her hard and fast, stripping her of breath and nearly toppling her. It seemed to freeze her body even more effectively than an electric shock, her muscles jerking as blood and bile rose in her throat.

Her body reacted even as her mind halted from tense fear. Her feet pivoted and took her away before he could get another hold of her.

Damn.

'_Kuja kwangu!' _Her spell was rushed and, in her hurry, lacked form. It was a pure shot of magic that escaped her, forcing Stein back a step. She took his surprise to her advantage. '_Mimi ni hapa! Kuja Kwangu!' _Roots from the ground, glowing with Sigh's magic, came to her aid. They wrapped about Stein's arms and legs attempting to hold him still. She wasn't sure what she would do once he was incapacitated. Perhaps she would run.

Regardless, he was too powerful to be held. Electricity danced on his body, breaking apart her spell with little effort. 'That was promising,' the man commented like a patient mentor, dusting himself off. 'But you'll need to put real power into it. Fight like you mean it.' Sigh _did _mean it. But she hadn't been expecting to fight for her life when she left her apartment; her reserves were nowhere near prepared for all the spells she had to sling around. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her lungs burned. She frowned at her opponent.

'You're not like the rest,' she panted. 'You're not like other demons. Why are you doing this?'

'I already told you.'

'I don't believe you.' Dr. Stein responded through action. She successfully blocked and countered his punch, although her foot skimmed harmlessly off him as he rotated. She dodged another assault from his charged hand but failed to avoid its partner as it returned to her again. It slammed into her stomach and though it lacked a surge of electric wavelength it still sent her flying into a wall.

She tried to pull away from the brick, the entire world circling in slow motion from her disorientation. She was aggrieved to realize she couldn't move. A sudden rash of heat and needles rushed over her skin and she was slammed into the wall a second time, pinned there by a force she couldn't see.

'I call those soul stiches,' Stein dug through his pockets, retrieving a new cigarette. His first had been an early casualty in their battle. She hated him so much at this moment she probably would have snatched this one away too. 'I force a bit of my soul's wavelength into yours and use it to subdue you. They'll hold you nice and still for me.'

'Like Hell!' Sigh struggled, ineffectively. Her body was stubbornly stuck. She howled in frustration. 'Stop that. You can't break free.' Stein slowly came forward. Sigh flinched and wished the wall would absorb her. 'D-don't you touch me! Bastard! Asshole! This isn't over!' She was out of aura that she had absorbed earlier. Her reserves had been depleted. She needed more…

She eyed the approaching aura of Dr. Stein.

Could she…?

If it would save her life, she supposed.

'_Mimi ni hapa' _Stein seemed surprised when she spit out one last spell. Sigh watched his aura twist and struggle at the sudden impact of her influence. '_Kuja kwangu!'_ It did not want to work against its host, especially not to aid a perceived enemy. But desperation made Sigh's will strong; with an inaudible howl, a chuck of Stein's aura was temporarily peeled away.

The young woman had no idea what to do with such a powerful force. She had only taken the essence of plants before, little bits of power that paled in comparison to the pulsating power that lay with a person like Dr. Stein. Her mouth went dry as her pupils dilated and her muscles seized up. The hair that had fallen from its tie came to life, glowing from internal light and waving about her face like an extension of her body. This amount of magic frightened and enthralled her. '_Kuja…kuja kwangu,' _her tongue felt heavy. For a moment, nothing happened.

And then Sigh's world shattered. Her eyes completely lost sight. There was nothing to see, nothing to feel, the aches and pains of her body vanishing. There was nothing anywhere but a flat landscape of white on white on white on white…

All at once her vision cleared. She took a shuttering breath, trying to ignore the tears of fright that had gathered in her eyes.

Stein was still before her. She was spent, and all on a dud spell that had done nothing. When he lifted his hands this time, she closed her eyes.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh had Sigh opening her eyes in shock. Dr. Stein was applauding.

'Very impressive. You were on your way to something very powerful, weren't you? I most certainly did not know you were capable of that.' Sigh didn't respond, just looking at him. 'If only you had the ability to control it. But that was still very fascinating. Tell me, what is your name?' The young woman who was still pinned to the wall blinked. 'My name…?' Her voice was a rough whisper. She sounded like she was on the verge of tears but Stein was much too pleased with himself to notice. 'Psyche.' The doctor smiled.

'Well, Miss Psyche, would you mind telling me why an assumedly rare wiccan is lurking here in our humble city?' Although he knew. Or had a theory.

Sigh frowned, confused and yet relieved. It felt as though he was playing with her, asking questions in a way that suggested knowledge he didn't wish to impart. But a dim hope shimmered; maybe she wouldn't be dying tonight after all. 'L-let me down.'

'Answer first.' Sigh wriggled to no effect. 'Death the Kid brought me here,' She finally confessed, voice shaking. 'Lord Death expects him to help me.'

'Help with what?' Sigh pouted, her bottom lip jutting out. 'With _this. _ My magic.'

'I see.'

'Look, you can just ask Lord Death yourself if you don't believe me. Now _please _let me down.'

'Well, you did say "please".' The man pulled a hand from his pocket, poking Sigh in the midriff. 'Release.' She flailed with the effort to catch her footing upon hitting the ground. Her body was unwilling to work with her, complaining from the abuse this fight had wrought. It was by far one of the worst she'd had; her very _soul _seemed to be aching with the residue of his strange attacks. And that was without the bruises she could feel developing on her middle and back. She was a ball of pains at the moment.

The young woman spitefully stole another piece of Stein's aura, just enough to get back to her feet. The man raised an eyebrow and she wondered if he could feel her steal from him. She vengefully hoped so.

'You're a jerk for attacking me,' her hiss was to cover her remaining discontent. She didn't like him being so close to her.

'Really? I think desperation is a wonderful teacher. People seem to learn faster through it.' Sigh frowned and kept her eyes on the ground.

She had indeed learned from this fight. It was her first time attacking with whatever power she had at her disposal and certainly her first time taking aura from a person. She spoke with false apathy. 'Oh? And what were you trying to teach me? How to get my ass kicked? I believe my mother schooled me in that enough.' Dr. Stein tipped his head to the side and looked at her. She could finally see that his eyes were a blue-grey color.

'Whether you are here for good or ill purposes, Miss Psyche, you should learn to mask your wavelength. It is simple enough for witches, so I would assume it is within your abilities as well.' Sigh snorted. 'I'm not a witch.'

'I didn't call you one. I am merely suggesting you learn what is commonly called "soul protect". Hide in plain sight. Learn to hide yourself or I will be the least of your worries.' Sigh moved to retrieve her ice cream, keeping an eye on Stein from the corners of her vision. The carton was dented but unopened. 'I don't get it. Who are you to randomly attack someone and then offer advice?' Stein huffed. 'I'm a teacher. I handle unique children daily. I guess it's leaked into my off hours as well.' Sigh shook her head. 'I'll be sure to avoid whatever school would hire you.'

'That is rather impossible, considering it is the center of this city.' His hands were back in his pockets. 'You work at the DWMA?'

'Yep.' Sigh closed her eyes, suddenly very tired. 'Figures.' Her knees cracked as she stood. She sucked on a bit of blood gathering under her bottom lip. 'I'm too tired to talk to you anymore. Goodnight, Dr. Stein.'

'Oh? You're dismissing yourself from class?' Sigh scowled. 'I didn't sign up for your circus so I see no reason to stay. I'm tired and injured and pissed off. I want to go home and lick my wounds.' Stein shrugged. 'Alright. But come visit me if you want any help with your wavelength.' Sigh's nasty glare intensified. 'Why the Hell would I do that?' Stein sighed, walking away. 'I told you, I'm a teacher. It's my job to help youngsters.'"

The narrator reached into her bag, pulling out a stack of paper. "I'm sorry, I forgot to pass these out in class. Everyone from the Class Sunset please take one. These are the rubrics for your projects." She handed the pile to her nearest student with the order to take one and pass the rest.

"Sigh was winded. And she usually did not become like that without due cause. She had woken up that morning with what could only be described as flu-like symptoms, her body achy and creaky. She felt dehydrated and fevered, her eyes borderline blurry even with her glasses. There were hollows on her normally rounded face and a sickly pallor refused to be banished by the heat of her morning shower.

She coughed.

It hurt.

Sigh could only think to attribute it to her fight the night before. That she had over extended herself and was now feeling the punishment for doing so. Her body was on the mend and resented being made to wake up and move after being tossed about and minced like a cheap side salad. Her bed was a siren to her limp body and she had to get dressed in the living room to resist collapsing back into her thin sheets. Her face was an unpleasant and pitiable frown as she tossed back her breakfast tea with no sugar or honey.

Her morning was accented by a visit from Maka, the friendly young woman showing up with an invitation to hang out at the park. It was supposed to be a really pretty day; she and several friends were all going to meet for a picnic and games. Tsubaki was packing a lunch and Black Star was bringing sports equipment (with the arrogant claim to have mastered all games). Would Sigh care to join them? They had become rather fast friends, even though Maka was often busy with her duties as a master technician and Sigh was often resistant to any efforts to get her to be sociable. If anyone could pry her from her apartment it was the scythe meister.

She actually felt comfortable around the green-eyed girl. She enjoyed her company. It was sincerely affectionate. Although the girl's warm sunset aura was often accented by a slight sadness whenever she spoke to Sigh.

Sigh cringed as Maka noticed the shadows under her eyes and the underlying sallowness of her dark skin. It was upon this discovery that the pig-tailed young woman invited herself in, pressing her hand to Sigh's forehead and tittering with worry. She had offered to spend the day with her, to call in sick for her, to do what she could to help an ailing friend. It had taken Sigh a while to assure Maka she wasn't dying and no, she would not be missing work because of a few aches. The young woman had looked Sigh dead in the eye, pretty olive irises locking onto sleepy grey.

'If you can't take it anymore, go home, okay? Kid won't mind.' Sigh shrugged. Kid probably wouldn't even notice. He was avoiding her, had been for days. But she smiled and nodded, politely pushing the girl out the door so she could continue getting ready for work.

The walk itself nearly killed her. It was sweltering before the sun even hit the center of the sky. Although the mansion was air conditioned Sigh was sweating within the first hour, body resisting work as it urged her to halt and rest. Everything was an effort, and she found herself hating Dr. Stein and Death the Kid and the world and those damn _stairs_ as she drug her exhausted body to the second floor to collect clothes to wash. The entire reaper home was abandoned; the Thompsons and their meister had joined their friends at the park.

Sigh wondered how they were faring in this heat. Although the community park was littered with trees and shade she imagined it was a bit uncomfortable. Kid didn't like heat so much. His reaper body was strongly resistant to sunburn but he confessed to disliking the way excessive heat felt as it seeped into his skin, dark hair and clothes not helping the situation. He claimed it felt unnatural for such warmth to be thrust upon him, for the aura of cool to be disrupted in such a manner. He had locked gazes with Sigh as he spoke, willing her to understand what was unsaid through his eyes of sunflower and honey.

Death was not a warm thing.

But regardless of that, Death the Kid was easily persuaded to venture out into the dreaded heat. He couldn't say a firm enough 'no' to his weapons and certainly not to his friends. He seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with them, although their lives were terribly temporary compared to his.

Sigh shook her head of this thought, for it struck a painful cord in her.

As a wiccan, was she also doomed to forever outlive those who meant the most to her? Terror rushed through her at the thought of such a lonely existence. Kid was so much stronger than her in this aspect; if she had known from the start that she would see the death of her loved ones, she would work not to have any. She would not seek out lasting friendships or open her heart to others. She would clam up if only to protect herself from the inevitable pain that lurks at every funeral and the flash of every camera. There was no way she could laugh and joke and look into her friends' faces knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, she would watch them die someday.

Sigh pushed open the door to one of the guest rooms, moving to wash the sheets and fleeing her morbid thoughts. The rooms must remain fresh, for she never knew when her young master would have guests. He hadn't had any that spent the night as of yet but it was her duty as his maid to be sure his home was prepared for anything. It was shame on her more than he when anything was out of place and she refused to allow such embarrassment to befall her.

It was actually really nice for a spare bedroom. The floor was a dark maple wood, the armoire ebony like the bed's headboard. The sheets on the bed were black with white piping, the pillows patterned between black and white. A door of dark wood stood off to the side, what Sigh could only assume was the bathroom. Or, if the rest of the bedrooms were any indication, there was a large closet area that led to the actual, spacious, bathroom. It was there that clothes were actually kept, for one to get dressed upon leaving the bathroom (Sigh assumed).

The maid dropped her basket on the floor, in her own little world and failing to notice the personal touches about the room. It was dust free, the portraits parallel to the floor and the blinds open to let in the afternoon sun. There were books on the dresser and nightstand, a black alarm clock within reach of any sleepy arm that would be thrown upon in. There was a black braided rug on the floor, ready to spare shuffling feet the discomfort of touching a bare wooden floor. But Sigh was not processing at any level beyond the automatic. Move. Gather. Wash. Repeat. She feared allowing herself deeper thought would worsen the dower mood she was in.

Death of loved ones indeed.

Her hands worked without direction, climbing onto the bed to peel back the furthermost corner of the sheets. Both mattress and duvet were soft, Sigh's movements unsettling the air and surrounding her with a musk she could not describe. It was clean, that was certain, but somehow personalized. Lotion and soap and autumn…boy? A very nice smelling boy. Sigh shook her head. The things guest beds could come to smell of when left alone. She shouldn't have taken so long to get to this room. Why had she never seen it before? Shame on her! She sniffed at her own carelessness and was once again struck in the face by the smell.

Although she couldn't deny how oddly comforting it was.

And she was _so _tired.

She shot a glance to the clock. Kid should be with friends all day. Plenty of time to fit in a cat nap. Just for a little while. Too long and she wouldn't have time to start dinner.

At the mere thought of a nap, her arms gave out, sending her face first into the bed. She sprawled and set her face into the pillow. She rolled over twice, noting that the bed was not as hard as Liz's or as soft as Patty's. She had never napped on the job before but had noted the sisters' preferences in mattresses unconsciously while making their beds. This bed was just right. She sighed, tugging the clip out of her hair so it wouldn't stab her in her sleep. As for her glasses…they had survived worse than a girl rolling over onto them.

'Well that was fun. I'm beat.'

'Yeah.' Patty accented her agreement with a yawn as they entered their home. The sun was setting on the city and the night's future chill was already felt in the air. 'The only real downside was Black Star's team beating us in soccer. I don't think he'll ever let us live it down.' Patty, who had been on the assassin's team, smiled wickedly. 'Ha ha! We kicked your ass!' Liz rolled her eyes good humoredly. 'Oh please! The only reason you won is because the ball nailed Kid in the face!' And had rebounded off his possibly broken nose. Upon hearing this recount of events, Kid sighed. There was tissue stuffed up his nostrils to stop the bleeding.

'A victory is a victory, Liz. It seems as though the alignment of my paintings remain safe for another day.' Liz scoffed.

'I think it'd be good for you to see them all messed up. It would snap you out of what's left of your little fits. Right Patty?' The younger Thompson didn't answer. She had paused in the doorway, a ponderous look on her face.

'Hey sis, do you smell that?' Liz crinkled her brow in confusion. 'What? No Patty, I don't smell anything.' Patty lifted her nose into the air, sniffing like a bloodhound. 'That's right sis! There's nothing to smell! Sigh's not cooking!'

'Hey! You're right!' Kid winced, easing one of his nose plugs free to see that his weapons were absolutely correct. Under normal conditions the air would be heavy with whatever dish Sigh had in her mind to prepare for the night. Whether it be an American staple (her meatloaf was to die for) or something new and completely random (papoosas, her favorite Mexican dish, were also really good), by this time of evening Sigh had usually set out something for them to eat. Even if she missed them, quitting before they returned home, she would leave food wrapped in the refrigerator to await their return.

She had been doing that for Kid, in recent days, considering he had not crossed her path.

Discontent stirred in his belly. He shook it off. It was for the best really. There was no way his father was right, there was no way Kid was in…four letter word…with Sigh. It just wasn't possible. It was merely Allure. That was what he had to believe. So what if most grim reapers shake off the effects of the spell quickly? Kid had never been like most grim reapers. The assumption that they have immunity was an unfair generalization without recognizing the outliers. Perhaps Allure actually possessed a stronger hold on him than others, making it much more dangerous.

Under this assumption, he was possibly a threat to the girl. It was becoming difficult to remain of a clear mind when he was around her, and he would hate to do or say anything to her that would ruin the friendship he had worked so hard to establish. She had only recently started trusting him completely, smiling and sharing jokes and openly enjoying his company. He noticed her affinity for mischief and the way she would hum or dance through the particularly monotonous chores, like dishes or laundry. When she caught his eyes she would shoot him a half-hearted frown or stick her tongue out or just meet his eyes, a look of peace on her face.

He recalled the deftness of her fingers when she teased gum from his hair (courtesy of Patty) the brush of warmth granted when she breezed by him on her way to another task in another room. He had never noticed before, but she wore pencils and pens in her hair, snuck into her buns and braids like they belonged. When he asked about them, she had shrugged and answered that one never knew when writing was necessary. He had looked at her a moment longer before reaching forward and snatching a pen from her hair, sticking it in his shirt pocket and nodding in thanks. She was right, of course. And she had had an uneven number.

Their acquaintanceship had evolved into a friendship that he cherished. And he wouldn't risk that for the world. She had become so warm to him he winced at what her cold shoulder had been like.

Just because Sigh was beautiful and intelligent and witty and kind did not mean she was the one he wanted. His instincts could not tell him what to do, they could not tell him who or when to choose. Sigh was just another friend.

He frowned. His own thoughts were annoying him.

'Well Maka did say Sigh was looking a little pale this morning,' his weapons continued talking, aware of his turmoil but believing it was due to the lack of dinner waiting. Sometimes Kid wished their souls could converse on more than just feeling alone, that they could actually use words. But then, even if they could, did he want Liz and Patty to know his uncertainty surrounding their maid? For them to stick their good-intentioned noses into it and thusly complicate it even further?

He answered his own question unintentionally. Let them think he was just hungry and irritable.

'And it's not like we don't know _why _she was feeling a little under the weather.' The elder Thompson eyed her meister meaningfully. It had been just this morning, as they made their way to the park, that they had come across a sight that was rather…unexpected.

Within walking distance of Sigh's apartment lay a patch of what the news reporters were calling 'Eden'. It seemed to stem from in front of a convenience store and branched out to encompass several other buildings. Large, silvery trees lined the sidewalk and glimmering vines hung from windows. Leaves of light and ivory fell from the sky in mimicry of autumn, snowy blossoms poking up from the desert sands. It looked as though someone had taken a bit of a forest and had deposited it in the middle of the city. The citizens didn't seem frightened as much as amazed, taking pictures of their children climbing on the magical branches and pressing their hands to the strange aura of comfort and gentility that seemed to be radiating from the plants.

Kid and his guns had recognized the magic immediately. And though he wondered what had possessed Sigh to do such a thing, Kid could see no harm in this action, as the people seemed to be entertained and there was no foul play to be reported. He reached forth, breaking off a flower from a nearby vine and watching it crumble into shimmery bits in his hands. Perhaps, should he encounter Sigh this day, he would congratulate her on this apparent evolution in her abilities.

'I mean, it looks as though she made herself sick from overwork. All that magic could not have come from nowhere, right? She probably went home.' Liz turned to her sister. 'How about it Patty? PB and J?'

'Allllll right!' Liz turned to her silent meister, searching his face and soul for his thoughts. The little ball of power and light seemed to be in turmoil, and not the normal chaos she associated with his neurotic hang-ups and bratty fits. Whatever was bothering him, it seemed to run deep. She doubted she could drag it out of him if he didn't want to talk about it; her adopted brother could be really stubborn when he wanted to be.

'What about it Kid? I'll make sure to make the sandwiches symmetrical.' The young reaper startled as though surprised she was speaking to him. 'Hm? Oh. No thank you, Liz. I think I'm just going to go get cleaned up.'

'Are you sure? Because-' He shook his head and cut her off. 'I'm fine. You girls go eat.' Patty obeyed with a whoop and a holler. Liz watched him walk up the stairs in his graceful, calculated way before turning to join her sister. She would speak to Kid later, try to get under this armor he had hastily constructed to protect himself from a danger she could not sense.

Kid worked his other nose plug out, carefully wrinkling his face. There was no pain by this point -his nose had healed nicely- but there was still dried blood on his face and shirt. He felt sticky and nasty from running around in the dusty terrain of Death City all day and he was certain he looked like a frightful mess from all the gore coating his face and clothing. The stains had probably set by now, and he wondered if it would ever come out. Maybe he should just dump it in the trashcan? All he wanted was a long, hot shower and perhaps a book before bed-

…

His door was open. A little space that was only slightly larger than a tennis ball, chilly air escaping into the hall.

His bedroom door was cracked open.

He knew he had not left it as such when he had left. Had he not locked it before leaving like he did every day? Or had he been in such a hurry to avoid Sigh that he had let that little detail slip?

So he was letting little details slip now? What was _happening _to him?

It wasn't that he didn't trust Sigh. He knew she would never go through his things or steal from him. It was more for his own sanity that he made sure the girl stayed out of his private quarters. Originally it had been his need for perfection, the fear she would set something out of place in his room and ruin the order of it. It would be completely unintentional on her part –she had yet to master his standard of order- but it would still be an unpleasant surprise to walk into his room and find his pictures off by a centimeter or his sheets arranged incorrectly. No, it was best that she stay out. Better she create chaos elsewhere in his home.

But recently he had been locking his door for an entirely different reason. Her skills in organizing had improved enough that he no longer felt the need to stop and instruct her upon every move she made. She seemed to follow his correction unconsciously now; even when she was in a foul mood or feeling lazy she couldn't help but make perfect corners and straighten pictures. Surely this was good enough to allow her into his room.

Now he only locked the door to protect what he could from her influence. Daily, he was exposed to her smell, her soul, her laugh, her eccentricities. Daily he was forced to school his face into apathy, his voice into steadiness, his apparently overeager aura into submission (difficult considering he could not see it for himself). He kept her out of his room so he would not be forced to gaze upon it and picture her fingers running over his sheets. Her big eyes looking out his window and her feet touching his floor.

He couldn't-

The setting sun was in his window, lighting the room in dreamy warmth. It bounced off the furniture and the abandoned basket of laundry at his feet, wrapping itself in curly strands of lilac. Her glasses were askew, her mouth parted a bit for her soft snores to escape as her face half buried itself into the pillow. It almost looked as though she had fallen asleep breathing it in. Her hands were not together, one under the pillow and the other slung over her waist to rest just below her ribs. Her legs were partially curled and he couldn't find the brain power to obsess over the fact that her socks didn't match.

Damn it all. Damn it all to the punishing rings of _Hell._

This was what he had been afraid of, all this time. Just looking at her, helpless and misleadingly innocent looking in his room, _on his bed _wasmelting him to the core. He couldn't look away and his poor helpless mind was unable to communicate to the rest of his body. Orders to wake her, to leave, to do something other than stare at her like a jackass were not quite understood as his eyes roved over her prone form again and again.

_Enough! _He commanded himself mentally, gritting his teeth. _I shall stop this ridiculous gawking immediately!_

Kid took a resolute step towards the bed. And another. He had to wake her (he explained to himself, to his still lungs and pounding heart) as she was obviously not well. He had to wake her and walk her home. Or maybe just escort her to one of the spare rooms in the manor. They had plenty.

The slumbering girl stirred a bit and made a little noise that rode the back of a sigh.

Damn it.

Her shirt had risen a bit, revealing a strip of toffee flesh and a shining navel ring in the shape of a butterfly.

Her eye lashes were curled and long.

A pale hand reached forward and he frowned when he saw his own shaking. What had he to fear? He was a grim reaper! He had faced down demons that haunted the dreams of children, monsters that devoured hope, and the great king of insanity himself. A slumbering young woman should not even cause him to bat an eye, should not create such a bundle of nerves within him.

His fingers gently cupped Sigh's shoulder upon contact, shaking her a bit. If she felt it, she didn't respond. She must have been a heavy sleeper. This knowledge planted a seed of assurance in Kid's mind, one that allowed ease to seep into his movements.

He carefully moved his hand, following the line of her arm until it brought him to her waist. After a moment of hesitation, he ghosted over the warm skin of her belly –gently tugging down her shirt to conceal her modesty- before lifting his hand to her cheek. The reaper traced the slack contours, his eyes hooded as he brushed hair from her face and followed the line of her jaw. He felt her eyebrows, her nose, her ears. His fingers wandered over the details of her face, eager to touch every part of her he could; even that single mole on one side of her face that had driven him mad. He had grown used to it and could now understand why many referred to such a thing as a 'beauty mark'.

He paused when he came to her lips.

Her breath warmed his perpetually chilly fingers. She was so alive. So real.

His face grew closer to hers, carefully watching and listening for any signs of her awakening. Nothing. The shame of his actions –a beast that lay in disapproving dormancy- pulsated at the thought of taking advantage of her while she slept. It would serve him right if she were to suddenly waken and throw him through his own window.

Their breaths mingled. She smelled of the outdoors, of forests and flowers and waterfalls.

This wasn't right. Touching her without permission and enjoying it so much. There must have been something wrong with him, something deep and troubling that should not have existed in such a proper young man. His actions could technically be classified as molestation; illegal and morally depreciative. And yet he felt nothing beyond the fading fear of being discovered. He felt nothing for the girl's helplessness in this situation, nothing for the breach of the friendly trust that had wordlessly constructed over the past few months (almost a year. The time had flown by so quickly…). All that mattered was that she was there, with him, her face and her lips open and inviting and so tempting he could hardly believe he had deprived himself of this for so long…

Kid allowed himself a brief moment of panic and disgust. Was this to be his new obsession? Would he overcome his madness over symmetry only to be drawn into a new brand of insanity that felt impossible to overcome? Was it his curse to forever be haunted by the unobtainable? This young woman wasn't to be his. He would do everything in his power to ensure that she wasn't, that she lived as normal a life as possible with a normal home and friends and maybe a pet or two. He even wanted her to obtain a normal lover.

His skin prickled at the thought although he argued the upsurge of misplaced anger back.

Becoming the lover of a grim reaper was no small matter. Not that he _wanted _her to be his lover, of course.

He could not allow her to fall into him like he believed he _may _have fallen into her. She didn't need to be the object of a grim reaper's affections, doomed to suffer the same life of chaos and magic that was engrained in his blood. She did not belong to the witches and demons and shadows of a grim reaper's world. It was like trying to shove a square into a circle; it wouldn't fit until something broke.

His sanity, perhaps.

Kid's eyes slipped shut as contact was made. Her lips were even softer than they looked, albeit a bit chapped. The young reaper shivered as the breath from her nose brushed across his cheek. He was gentle in his movements –both to keep her from waking and to get a feel for it. It was his first kiss- and nearly jumped out of his skin when it felt like she responded. But he couldn't stop. A low rumble appeared in his throat and the part of his mind that had not short-circuited realized he was growling from deep in his chest. He was enjoying this too much; he had to stop before he made a mistake.

Kid's lips resisted when he attempted to pull away, but he knew he was pressing his luck by continuing any longer. He opened his eyes slowly. Hers were still closed, her breathing still deep and even. So her response had only been instinct, nothing more. He brushed his fingers to his own heated lips, tongue darting out.

She tasted bittersweet, like sweetened tea.

He felt…at peace.

Kid pulled her glasses from her face and set them on his nightstand before closing the blinds and folding his duvet to cover her. Sigh could rest here for the night; there was no reason to disturb such a restful slumber. Without thinking he bent forward again, pressing his lips to her forehead. He jerked back almost immediately, eyes wide. He took a step back to disengage.

No. He didn't mind if she left a bit of her essence on his sheets. Not at all."

The storyteller paused and accepted the stack of papers back from the last student. A boy in blue jeans and a white shirt, he looked put out for having to move. "Did everyone get a copy?" she asked the crowd, gesturing for the children in the front row to scoot over and allow the boy to join them. "They're about to go back in my bag." No one raised their hand. The narrator sighed, eyeing the midday sun as it continued its path across the sky. It wasn't late enough for her to stop but she had been losing sleep lately. She rubbed her eyes behind her glasses.

"Sigh awoke at a minute 'til midnight, taking a moment to realize she was not in her little apartment. Panic had her flailing about, frightened and blind in the darkness. The blankets of this foreign bed wrapped about her legs and she tumbled to the ground with a pained grunt.

'Damn it,' she rubbed her now aching elbow. 'What time is it?' She felt about, feeling for the alarm clock on the little bedside table and quickly reclaiming her glasses upon feeling them beneath her fingers. She couldn't remember setting them aside but it only made sense that she had.

Maybe?

23:59.

Damn. If Kid wasn't back by now he was somewhere dead in a ditch.

Sigh climbed to her feet, wondering just how irritated the junior reaper was going to be. She had failed to complete her duties for the day and, to add insult to injury, she had fallen asleep quite literally on the job. There was truly no excuse for this sort of behavior and she was duly ashamed of her actions. She wished to apologize but it was a bit late for that. Or early? Maybe she should give him time to cool off before approaching. Sigh frowned, reaching for the lamp in the darkness and clicking on the bedside light.

The air in the room smelled like it had been stirred about. The lotion smell was reiterated and the atmosphere felt disturbed. Sigh stretched, cracking her back and shaking her head. She was sure the only reason the room felt different was because she was unused to it. It couldn't have changed as she slept.

She owed it to Kid to make up for lost time by coming into work early the next day. They were friends, sure, but that did not call for a lack of professionalism. She had taken advantage of his kindness enough in the past, but all those times were different. She had always taken her job seriously, only complaining in order to get under the young reaper's skin. It had reminded her of working at home. Taunting her mother with her nonsense complaints and grumbling at every chore Leroy asked her to do. It was simply the way she amused herself on the job, especially when she was as close to her coworkers as she was to her mother and Leroy and Death the Kid.

Sigh now felt as though she had crossed a line of some sort. Like she had had no right to slip into such a casual state while on the clock and shame on her for daring to breach an unseen pact. She should never have succumbed to her urges, should never have allowed herself to think for even half a second that a nap was something to be had at work.

There was a tap at the window, drawing her attention from her own regret. The blinds had been drawn and the curtains –black and white fabric that matched the bedspread- had been brought together. Sigh cocked her head to the side, listening curiously.

The tap came again.

Now knowing for certain she wasn't crazy, the young woman moved towards the window cautiously. It was probably simple, a clumsy moth running into the glass, grains of sand from a coming storm. But something told Sigh otherwise. It called to her on a base level, begging her to open the curtains, the blinds, the window, and let the raven coast into the room.

It flew in a tight circle before alighting on the edge of a bed post to watch Sigh with a single dark eye. She watched it back. Something about this…

'You've grown to look like Aisha.' Sigh wasn't sure if she was surprised when the bird spoke, although her body jumped and her eyes widened. 'What?'

'You look like Aisha. Her eyes and face and body. Absolutely beautiful. As I knew you would be.' The raven spread its wings but instead of taking flight once more its limbs began to stretch. The creaking of muscle and bone were heard as its wings became arms, its talons feet, its beak the soft lips of a woman. Black wings became olive toned skin and bare feet alighted on the chilly wooden floor.

The woman stood as tall as Sigh with hair the color of tempered steel beams trained into a short bob. Her limbs were long and graceful like those of a dancer. She wore a simple garment that resembled a thin grey sheet cinched at the waist to accentuate her feminine curves. Huge exaggerated safety pins lined the edges of her clothing and her hat, a shade darker than her hair, had a grinning face upon it. A dainty button nose rested above a drawn up mouth of ruby red. A single eye of deep onyx watched Sigh impassively, its partner was hidden by a patch with '1/2' written in black ink.

'What I wouldn't give to see you with Aisha. It would be like watching two mirror images conversing.' Sigh took a step back, eyes automatically seeking out the witch's aura. Squinting brought her a surprise; a clear wave of energy surrounded the woman. Her aura was completely void of any color.

'What are you?' Sigh breathed before she could stop herself. The woman gave Sigh a sly look although her face didn't budge. 'That was rather rude. Have you not been raised properly? It is impolite not to ask for a person's name before confronting them.' The witch shook her head. 'I suppose it cannot be helped, although you know what I am. You can _feel_ it, can't you?' Sigh let out a shuttered breath as the woman's aura, one that was meticulously trimmed and neat, branched out to touch her own. Like the woman knew Sigh could feel the interaction. The witch was powerful in a way the young woman had only met once before, in the aura of Lord Death.

'You can't be what I think you are,' Sigh spoke when she had found her voice. 'Lord Death and his son would be on you in moments. They can sense witches.' The woman cocked her head to the side. 'Not at the moment, no, they cannot. We are outside of time, child. In the little span of eternity that exists between this day and the next.'

'You mean midnight?'

'No. The moment before. The moment after. An area only open to myself,' she eyed Sigh 'and those I allow in. It's a very opportune time for magic but I mainly use it for a moment's reprieve.' She huffed, brushing a strand of grey hair from her face. 'Others of my species can be so taxing.' Sigh took a breath though it failed to slow her racing heart. 'There's something you're not telling me.' The sly look was back. 'Oh?'

'If you are a witch, you hate grim reapers.'

'You speak with distain. They _are_ quite annoying. Surely you've noticed.'

'And you can move in a time frame where they cannot sense you?'

'Am I not speaking to you now?'

'So why have you never attacked them? Are you not here to do so now?' Sigh shook her head, already regretting her question. 'If you are, I'll have to -' the witch held up a finger.

'Lord Death is a very powerful reaper. I do not fear him, but there are layers upon layers of barriers upon this mansion, upon his precious little school. One as powerful as myself can't even dream of entering usually, much less casting any significant magic. If I had it my way I would have laid waste centuries ago. But since I can't get close, I live through my humble sisters.' Sigh narrowed her eyes, ignoring her shaking knees. The longer she was in the witch's presence the heavier the air seemed to get. She knew she should do something –fight, run, alert _somebody_- but her legs refused to do more than shake. 'How are you here now?'

The smile that curled on the witches face was sweet and pretty, an upturn of her lovely lips. It didn't reach her eye and only lasted a moment. 'Why you, of course. I could feel your wavelength for miles and miles.' There was silence as Sigh's eyes grew wide. 'My…wavelength?' Dr. Stein's words returned to Sigh, his warning bright and hot in her mind.

_Learn to mask yourself or I will be the least of your worries._

'For you see, if at any time even a bit of me was to make it beyond the barrier, I could slip beyond. It would be only a temporary visit, as long as the barriers are in place.' She held out her arm for Sigh to inspect. A burn was present, steadily growing and tearing at the smooth flesh. The witch didn't seem pained; the look in her eyes was more one of annoyance, like she had discovered a hole in her shirt. 'See? I am already being rejected. But I still have plenty of time to see you for myself.'

'I don't understand,' Sigh said dumbly. 'How can you…you said there had to be a bit of yourself for you to enter. What does that have to do with me?'

She didn't want to think the witch's presence was her fault. That the woman had somehow ridden her wavelength underneath the layers of defense the manor apparently sported.

The witch sighed. 'You are still confused?' Sigh found herself swept off her feet by an invisible force, a vacuum, thrown towards the witch. The woman had muttered the spell so fast Sigh hadn't caught it. Long fingers tangled in locks of deep violet as Sigh was brought closer to the intruder. 'Can you honestly look into my eye and tell me you do not know who I am?' The witch's aura jerked with a burst of power, latching onto Sigh's and twisting them together. Sigh gasped.

'I-I don't…'

_Pretty woman with Pretty Eyes._

'I _can't…_'

_Heavy magic. Warm hands. Red smile._

'Please…just…'

_Higher and higher and higher._

'Let go of me!' Sigh snatched herself away, breathing deep. 'I don't know who you are but you need to leave. Now!' She imagined she wasn't very intimidating at the moment. She felt out of breath and dizzy, still wondering why she was both so comfortable and so familiarly antsy around this extremely dangerous witch.

The older woman snorted, stalking after the retreated Sigh. The girl suddenly felt frozen. 'I see. So Aisha cleared your memory to prevent vengeance from breeding in your soul. Had she such little faith in you? It's an insult I believe.' Sigh scowled. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Don't you though?' A long red nail poked Sigh in the forehead and another image hit her.

_Come on now. That's enough playing. Pretty Woman with Pretty Eyes smiled. Let's go home. I have a surprise for you…she wants to see how much you have grown…_

_Long, powerful arms held her tightly as breath brushed through her hair. _

_You've gotten so big! So powerful! She'll be so proud._

'Stop that!' Sigh screeched and fought against the magic that encompassed her. She slapped the witch's hand away.

'Why?' The woman looked mockingly confused. If she was surprised Sigh had broken her spell she didn't show it. 'It is just the past.' Sigh grit her teeth.

'Not. Mine.' A dark look appeared in the witch's eye. 'You must never deny where you come from. One would think you were shamed of your legacy,' the danger in the witch's eye was not reflected on her face. Sigh was beginning to think very little emotion actually made it onto her beautiful visage.

'Such shame is insulting. And I will not tolerate that in my home.' Sigh snarled. 'Home? Why should I care what you tolerate in your home?' The woman raised an eyebrow. ' Because it shall be yours too. Among your own kinsmen.'

'Wiccans are all dead.'

'Yes.'

'And witches are no kin of mine. You have attempted, on multiple times, to kill me.' The woman clicked her tongue, ignoring the latter statement. 'You are of closer kin to us than these…_humans._ These _reapers_.' Both words were spat like a curse. 'I'll not let them keep you from your family. Aisha would wish otherwise.'

'They're not keeping me anywhere! I'm exactly where I want to be!'

'You don't know what you want, you stupid girl. You are just as Aisha was and she tosses in her grave from your repeated impertinence.'

'Why should I care if some dead witch approves of me?' The witch's dark look stirred into a storm cloud. Her formerly tame aura lashed about her body in a typhoon of anger and impatience. 'She was your _mother_, you forked tongued cretin.' Sigh leapt back, worried she had finally pushed the witch too far with her lack of tact. 'Everything you are, your very _life_, it is all because of her. You owe her more than you will ever know. You owe it to her memory to come with me and be raised by the closest thing to kin an _aberration_ like you has. You do her no justice siding with _humans._ Sharing a bed with a _reaper_.'

'I'm not-'

'_You stink of him_!' The witch's screech nearly deafened Sigh. It was too high to be human, reaching into the vocal regions of the avian. This was an unpleasant surprise when one referenced her former calm. 'You stink of his flesh! You stink of his affections! You stink of all that they have made of you! Blasphemer! Traitor! Fool!' Sigh shuttered a breath, temper and fear dancing at the edges of her vision.

'Who are you to judge me? I know nothing outside of this! How can you expect me to just follow you to who knows where?'

The witch's eyes narrowed. 'Because _I _know all that you are! You can only belong with us, only belong to this sisterhood. Do you fear us, girl? Do you fear us because a few have played a bit too roughly?' Sigh was thrown back into the wall by the same force that had once drawn her close to the witch. She knocked over the lamp, shattering the bulb and leaving the room clothed in darkness. The witch's eye glowed at Sigh. 'Do you fear your own family?'

'I fear no one!' The young woman bellowed, climbing back to her feet. 'I refuse to go with you because of your lies! You claim this woman was my mother. If so, why would she steal my memory and set me adrift in this world? Why would she just let me wander with no home and no one? Why would she let me be punished for what I couldn't help and hated for what I didn't know I was? She had to know that would happen, right? She had to know that leaving me here with no memory would make me this way! Would make me a walking target! You expect me to honor and respect this witch who forced me to forget her! I know nothing of her and you cannot expect me to think of her as anything more than a shadow me my past!

Why should I give a fuck about what she would want me to be when she so thoughtlessly made me into something else? If she wanted me to be raised by you _so badly, _where the Hell have you been? Why didn't she just give me to you?' Sigh's voice grew soft although her eyes remained hard and angry. The witch's form didn't move in the darkness. 'I'm grown now, I don't need you any more than I need _her_. It's too late now. It's been too late for most of my damn life. Way to come crawling back to where you are not wanted.'

She crossed her arms and planted her feet, hoping to emanate the strength she didn't feel. 'If you came here to kill Lord Death and his son I will fight you. I will fight you with everything I have. If you want to leave in peace, please just go. I want nothing to do with you or whatever you think you represent.' The witch blinked.

'I could kill you right now, you little cur,' her voice was a low purr that didn't match her threat. 'And no one would mourn. No one would care. No one would even find your body until the sun rose.' Sigh stifled her panic. She stood no more chance against this powerful witch than she did against Lord Death himself. 'You don't want to kill me, Bibi,' she challenged with false confidence 'or you would have done so when you first got here.' The witch cocked her head to the side, gaze curious in a way Sigh didn't like. She resisted the urge to take a step back. No more running. 'What did you call me, child?' Sigh frowned. 'I don't know what you're talking about, witch.'

'You called me "grandmother." Do you not know this?' Sigh stiffened. 'I…don't know what you're talking about.' The word had simply popped into her head as she looked at the other woman. It was like it had been perched on her tongue the whole time, awaiting an opportunity to reveal itself.

The older woman seemed to have calmed. 'Perhaps you are not as lost as you claim to be?' Sigh refused to answer, eyes attempting to burn a hole in the witch.

The woman changed back into her raven form and perched on the window sill. Smoke curled about her feathers as Lord Death's barriers continued to eat away at her. 'You will tire of these insects and their protectors,' she spoke with solemn certainty. 'You will come to us because everywhere else will have shunned you. When you are lost and hated, you will call out for me. And I will only come because we are blood.'

'I will _not _call,' Sigh whispered stubbornly. 'Even if all the world hates me. Even if there is nowhere left for me to go. I would rather die than come crawling to you.' The witch chuckled cruelly. 'You _will_ come to me, child. We are kin. I am your Bibi. And you have no one else.' And she was gone. Sigh released a shutter, breathing deep to make herself to relax in the still darkness. In the distance the new bell tower struck midnight, forlorn tones entering the room through the window.

_Kill-kong._

Sigh slammed the glass shut and snatched at the curtains before letting her shaking knees take her to the floor. Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt, a cold sweat quickly soaking into her clothes as she nibbled her lips.

'I do not know her,' she assured herself 'crazy bitch.' But her mind was unsure of where to place this latest…attack? Witches hated wiccans. That was all it was. Whoever this woman had been, she was just trying to lead Sigh away from her friends, from any sort of support. Make her paranoid and hateful of those who had accepted her far more than her alleged 'kin'.

Humans shunned and were weary of her. But none had attempted to kill her. Which was more than what she could say about every witch who had ever crossed her path.

_All but this one _a logical little voice spoke _she seemed quite fond of you. You could be her mjukuu._

'No,' Sigh whispered. 'I do not even know her. How can I be her granddaughter?'

_Bibi._

_Aisha._

Sigh closed her eyes. A part of her was happy to have a name to go with the face that haunted her. She could now see the woman's eyes were a deep grey color, darker than her own, the woman's hair a shade of cottony white. Her skin was the color of hot chocolate, but it was possible to see the similarities between her face and that of…

_Bibi._

They were both so beautiful. Sigh couldn't see herself looking like either of them. They couldn't be her family.

'Aisha?' Sigh asked the image. It blinked and smiled. 'Are you…are you my mother?' It didn't respond –it was a memory, nothing more- but nonexistent hands reached forth. Sigh felt them run through her hair, fingers scratching at her skull before sinking into her mind.

_Daima basi macho yako kuona ni nini huko…_

_Sigh gasped as the room around her vanished, replaced by a dusty landscape. The ground was dry and cracking, void of any sort of foliage or significant greenery. She sat beneath a stubbornly healthy tree with branches twisted like the hands of an old woman. Huts of mud and savannah grass were scattered about, women balancing urns on their head and barefoot children running about. Smoke rose from several cooking fires and a circle of men laughed together in jest. _

'Africa?_' But it felt surreal. Everything had a blurry edge, as though it was all attempting to collapse in on itself from the bulbous scene it had blown into. She still felt the carpet of Kid's mansion somewhere in the back of her mind, still felt the chilly air and her cold sweat. This image was simply born of her memory, the clearest it had ever been._

_Sigh stumbled to her feet, wondering why the world was so fuzzy whilst she wore her glasses. She removed them for a cleaning, startled to be able to see clearly as soon as they were off her face. '_What is going on?_' No one answered. They couldn't hear her. Sigh began walking deeper into the village. Out of the brown and dusty green came a burst of color, drawing Sigh's attention. It vanished around the edge of a hut. She followed._

_The woman spoke in rapid succession Swahili to a small child drawing in the dirt. Like the woman speaking to her, the little girl wore colors that were much too bright for this village. Purples and oranges and blues and pinks. Their clothing was mixed with their oddly textured and brightly colored hair to make it painfully apparent they did not belong. That they were foreigners in this little community and where marked as such. The woman knelt before the little girl, smiling brightly. Sigh listened closely as her mind began translating._

'…_very good! I can see this is your mama and…your bibi?' The child nodded eagerly, lavender hair bouncing along her forehead and covering her eyes. 'And Bibi Ororo! She's nice to me.' _

'_Is she now?' the woman frowned slightly. 'She is their village elder; it is her job to be kind to everyone.'_

'_But I'm her favorite!' The child was insistent. 'She lets me sit on her lap and play with her dog and yells at the others when they are cruel. She says that I'm beautiful and special.' The woman's smiled grew forced. 'Ah, they are cruel to you?' Sigh could see the woman's mind working behind her dark eyes, something being formulated._

'_Yeah, but it doesn't hurt. I'm getting strong, Mama!' Sigh jerked as though the word had stung her when from the child's lips. 'I'm a witch! I must be strong at all times! Like Bibi!' The woman sighed, smile once again gentle as she scooped up the little girl to balance on her hip. The child was obviously old enough to walk by herself, but the woman lifted her with no hesitation. 'You are not a witch.'_

'_That's what they call us. Witches. Sorceresses. Monsters. Succubi.' It was all too obvious the child was only repeating what she had heard. She stumbled over the more complicated words._

'_They are wrong. Your bibi is a witch, but we are not. We are wiccan. We can hurt them, kill them, but we must do no harm. We are healers at our core, not fighters.' Sigh followed the two as they began to move to the edge of the village. She assumed they were going home, although neither held supplies by which to survive the harsh savannah. Perhaps they were to rely upon magic to travel. _

_A sudden chill ran up Sigh's spine and she was strangely alarmed. She snapped her head around, inspecting the village. _

_Nothing. A chicken walked by, busy with the dust at Sigh's feet. The chill wouldn't leave. _

'H-hurry!_' She shouted to the woman's retreating back. '_You must leave quickly!_' _

_The little girl's chin was perched on her mother's shoulder. Sigh's eyes grew wide as her hair was lifted from her face by a breeze. The child did not have pupils. Her eyes were merely varied shades of grey and silver and blue, constantly changing and twisting like mist was captured in her soul. Sigh felt as though they could see right through her, like the little girl had pinned her when no one else seemed capable of noticing her. 'Are you tired, sweet one?' The little girl shook her head and closed her eyes. Sigh breathed in relief. 'No. I'm wondering where Baba went.' The woman visibly stiffened. 'He is gone now. And we must never see him again. You will listen to your mama and not speak his name in my presence.'_

'_Yes Mama.' The woman was displeased at the child's apparent disappointment._

'_You mustn't miss him. He will betray you. He will kill you.'_

'_Doesn't he love me?' The woman grew silent. Sigh could see from her face that she did not want to answer. It was the pained look mothers wear when their children discover the reality of the world, begins to look beyond the universe of magic and love that is so painstakingly created for them. The mother was debating whether or not she would tell the truth. _

'_No. He does not.' Sigh felt empathetic pain as she watched the child's face twist. 'No one cares for you but your mama and your bibi. Trust no one else. They will hurt you because you are not like them.'_

'_But Bibi Ororo-'_

'_They question her leadership here; they say she is not of right mind. They blame you for this, claim you stole her soul away with your magic.' The little girl looked close to tears at her mother's words. The woman held her daughter tighter, physically apologizing for the truth she spoke. 'I block my ears to their foolish words, for I know you have done no such thing. But I fear their heated whispers. I fear what they mean for my precious child. They hate us here, just like everywhere else. They wish to banish us, kill us. We have no home but with each other, with Bibi. Do not worry about the silly people we help. You must learn to block your heart even as you offer it to others. Do not hate them, but you must never come to love them either.' _

_The woman swung her daughter in front of her, gently brushing away tears. 'Do not worry. Mama will always protect you. And do not speak of the one who hates us above all others.'_

'_Do not speak of whom?' The woman cringed as her daughter jerked up straight as a shot. They had not noticed as the village slowly grew silent, the people fleeing in the wake of this supernatural force. It was dangerous; they could feel it in their bones and knew better than to interfere in the conflicts of sorceresses and sorcerers. Spirits and magic were welcomed in this village as long as they caused no harm and left the people in peace. The sorceress and her young one had been hesitantly welcome at first because she had offered to bless them and guard from demons. She had done her duty. This had been her designated day to leave. But it was on this day that something arrived she could not vanquish._

_Sigh tried to turn, tried to see this dark figure on the edges of her vision. She heard his voice, clear and deep like a rock slide. He was big, she could see that as well. But her mind refused to show her just what he was; his body was nothing but a large, man shaped shadow. The little girl clung tighter to her mama, eyes wide with a confusing mix of fear and excitement. The last Sigh heard from the scene was mother and daughter speaking in tandem. _

'_Baba?'_

'_What are you doing here?' _

Sigh tore her eyes open with a jerk, gasping and twitching. She couldn't quite remember where she was at first, but as soon as the world returned to her she leapt to her feet.

That was it, she was done. She was going to go back home to Las Vegas now, catch the next train out of this accursed city and hide under her mother's skirt for the rest of her life. She had had enough of all this weirdness, all this confusion, how no one seemed willing to give her a straight answer. Even her own memories left her without anything substantial. Was Aisha her mother? Was her grandmother a witch? Why couldn't she remember? Where was she to turn to?

Sigh was in such a rush she fell down the last few steps of the staircase, feet catching and twisting together as though resentful she was asking so much of them. She landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, slamming her knees into the wooden floor and collapsing. The pain startled her to sanity. She leaned against the wall and brought her legs up to her chest. Her arms wrapped around them to protect her from the world.

'Why?' She asked no one. 'I'm so tired. Why won't it just end?' She had been crying so much lately. She really didn't want to anymore. It felt as though the girl she had worked so hard to create, the young woman Madame put time and energy into creating was vanishing before her very eyes. Psyche LaBelle Éclair was being lost to whatever manner of person she had once been and she _did not want to go! _It was just too painful, thinking for even a moment that she had been blinded by her own stubbornness and resentment.

This whole time, she had believed that Madame was the only one who had ever loved her. That her real mother was a heartless wench that had abandoned her long ago to go off and do whatever it was that mothers did when they left their children behind. But to see the woman's face, to know she had once been cherished and loved by a woman she could not even remember…

It was all too much.

So what was Madame now? If her true, loving mother was dead did she have the right to choose another?

Sigh bit her lip. She loved Madame so much. She wanted Madame to be her mother, not this strange woman who looked at her so affectionately and held her so close. She wanted Madame and not this family of witches and wiccans. She wanted to be Psyche Éclair not…

Not…

She was so lost. She couldn't even remember her own fucking _name._

'Sigh?' Kid's voice came to her through a fog of pity she held for herself and she ignored him. 'Sigh? What's wrong?' She felt him come to kneel before her and tried to stop crying before he could see. 'Nothing,' her voice sounded muffled 'I'm just going home.' Where _was _home? 'Leave me alone.' She found herself getting unjustly angry when Kid didn't move.

'I said leave!' She lashed out, catching him in the chest. 'Go! Go! Go!' Every word was accented by a strike. 'Leave me alone! I'm fine! I don't need you! I don't need anyone!' The young reaper just looked at her, face grimly silent.

'LEAVE ME ALONE!'

_No one cares for you but your mama and your bibi._

He caught her hand. She wrenched to break free, but he was stronger than she. He yanked her forward and she fell into him, face colliding with his chest and knocking him backwards, onto his bottom. She felt his arms encircle her before she could struggle away, pressing her closer and allowing him to hear the sobs building in her chest. He smelled of the bed she had just come from, but she refused to be comforted.

Sigh twisted and shrieked, uncaring who she woke, pulling and scratching at him. He held her tightly, pinning her face to his chest and her legs with his. Rage began to boil beneath her woe as the young reaper stubbornly latched onto her. If she could bring her arms up she probably would have punched him, nailing him right in his pretty nose. But because her arms were forced down by his, nails digging into his back to make him release her, she was forced to improvise.

In a last effort to be free to wallow in her own misery, Sigh sunk her teeth into the pale white column of his neck. It wasn't a very hard bite –she immediately felt silly and childish- but her upset made her desperate. Desperate to be free from these arms that were comforting in a way that confused her. In a way that made her want to trust him, to bury herself into him and wait for every bad thing that ever haunted her to simply vanish into the night.

She didn't like this feeling of helplessness. This need to rely on someone.

'Let me go,' she mumbled against his skin, feeling the pulse beneath speed up. 'Or I will tear your throat out.' Kid swallowed at the feel of her lips. 'That is…that is very childish Sigh.' She gave a small shrug and dug her teeth in further. Kid's breathing started shaking. It wasn't _painful_, per se…

'I-I'm not letting you go.' Although she really, really, needed to stop that. Kid wasn't sure he would be able to stop himself from attacking her if she continued. She had no idea what she was doing, with her warm body pressed to him and her hot mouth latching onto his pounding pulse in such a way. The peace that had overcome him in the aftermath of their one-sided kiss had quickly waned in the wake of this new development. He wanted a repeat of their previous encounter, wondering just what she felt like whilst awake. Just how far they could go.

He frowned and pushed those thoughts back. They were _severely _inappropriate.

Shaking arms wrapped around Kid's waist as fingers twisted into his shirt. Sigh released his throat with a 'pop' and he remembered how to breathe. 'Damn it Kid,' she whispered brokenly, body going limp. 'Why can't you ever just give me what I want? You're always so mean to me.' Relieved to once again be able to think, Kid frowned.

'What happened, Sigh?' He whispered into her hair.

'Nothing. Let me go.'

'No. I will not. What happened?' She felt one of his legs twitch, curling and pulling her closer. She allowed this to happen, adjusting so that she was sitting on one of his long limbs. She buried her teary face into his neck and grunted.

'That was not an answer, Psyche,' Kid chided gently. Sigh felt a hand wander to her face and to pull hair from where it was sticking to her wet skin uncomfortably. 'Let me go. _Please._'

'No.' The young woman was silent, too tired to fight him. Now the tears were falling without sound, no longer accented by her shameful little hiccups. They were staining Kid's shirt, although he could not bring himself to care. He just wanted to know what had hurt her this way. Who had dared to make her cry like this.

'I don't want to do this anymore,' her breath whispered across his collarbone. Kid's arms tightened. 'I don't…I don't think I belong here, Kid. Anywhere. Las Vegas, Death City, Africa. I'm a wiccan. Neither a witch or a human. I'm stuck in the middle. And I don't like it there.' The loneliness of that position occurred to Sigh in a rush and she wrenched her eyes shut.

_They will hate you because you are not like them._

'I belong to neither. Both resent me in their own ways, loath my difference. And yet I have nowhere to go. My birth mother and my kinsmen are dead. My grandmother is a witch, whose sisters wish to see _me_ dead. I am either a threat to humans, or doomed to lurk on the outside. Where do I go? There is no home for me. God, Kid. What do I _do?_'

_We have no home but for with each other._

Kid was silent. He had no way of understanding Sigh's pain, her fear. How it felt to be the last of one's kind, left to fend for oneself with no one to turn to for guidance or help. He had his father, he had other immortals like Father Time and the Ladies of Fate. Even the strangely amusing wind brothers were mentors to the young reaper. But Sigh, she had no one to understand. Only those who would try. She was not a witch, she was not human and if Lady Grace's reaction was any indication, other immortals would shun her in a way that was akin to a human's foolish hatred. Sigh was the last of her kind and no matter what she did or how she tried to fit in there would always be that knowledge in everyone's minds.

_She is not one of us._

'I do not understand,' his voice was soft with uncertainty 'your fear, Sigh.' She stiffened and the young reaper spoke fast to keep her from snatching away. 'First of all, a home is what you make of it. Anywhere you feel comfortable, anywhere there are people who care about you, is home. For years, you made it with Madame Éclair, _you made it _after living on the streets and wandering. So you have the ability to remake it again and again. No one can tell you where to feel happy or where to return to when you just can't take it anymore. Your home will always be, for cliché's sake, where your heart is.'

Kid listened to Sigh force her breathing to even. Her head moved to rest against his chest, face turned away from him. 'By this logic you _are _home. In Las Vegas. In Death City.' Sigh frowned. 'Here?'

'In your little apartment, Sigh.' The young woman really had grown attached to the dinky place. She had recently begun bringing in plants and the little blossoms had immediately latched onto her output of aura magic. They had grown much larger than the example blooms in the store, incandescent and healthy. There was now a mini cycle in her home as she borrowed aura from the plants occasionally and they absorbed minuscule amounts of her essence to remain in a state of surreal beauty. Her pride and joy was the sweet pea plant she had shown Kid. It was the largest and held the most flowers.

'And I…_people_ care about you here. You have friends. Those who accept you as you are and could not imagine you being any different. Do not _want _to imagine you being any more or less than you are. So this is your home, right?'

Kid spoke with a solemnity that reflected his mounting confidence. He sincerely believed in his words. 'Secondly, I firmly believe it is not _what_ you are that matters, but _whom_. You are Psyche LaBelle Éclair, a young woman who is making her way through this world. You are short tempered, multi-talented, uncoordinated, patient, mischievous, good natured, stubborn…the list continues as far as I can see. Your existence as a wiccan is just one small part of that. Just a bit of the whole. You should not let it lead you to such sadness. It is obvious that what you do next should have nothing to do with your heritage, but what you feel is right.'

Sigh pulled away to look Kid in the face. There was a focused frown upon it, his pale pink lips pulled down into a serious line. There was a little wrinkle between his eyes, deep sulfuric pits of mustard seed and parchment. They seemed to be burning her with their intensity and she leaned towards them to touch her forehead to his. She let her eyes slip shut, listening to him breathe. 'I can't tell if that list was insulting or not.' She chuckled a bit, her voice still thick. Kid raised an eyebrow, eyes hooded. 'It was honest.'

'Well at least you told the truth. It shows you're my friend…that you care, right?'

Kid allowed himself to smile a bit. 'Was that a rhetorical question? I let you sleep in my bed, didn't I?' Sigh sat up. 'That was…that was your room?' Kid looked at her oddly. 'You couldn't tell?' Sigh shook her head. 'Ohhhh. I'm so sorry! Where did _you_ sleep?' Kid didn't want to admit to falling asleep in the living room watching the news. It was somehow anticlimactic. He shrugged. 'It doesn't matter. You were sick.'

'I'm still sorry! That was so rude. And to fall asleep while at work too…' with everything else that had occurred this night, Sigh had almost forgotten to apologize. 'I'm so sorry. I'm such a terrible employee…sorry.'

'Forget it.' The young woman moaned a bit but brought her hands higher on his back. She rested her chin on his shoulder and pulled him into an earnest embrace. He returned her hug, thumbs rubbing her back gently. 'You're too nice. It's okay to get mad at me.'

'You told me I'm mean to you.'

'Exactly. I want you to be mad at me. You're not. That's mean.' Kid snorted. Sigh hummed and leaned against him. Their arms relaxed but stayed looped about each other and Sigh's legs moved to a more comfortable position on either side of Kid's. He was so wiry under her hands; a walking contradiction that was somehow both a waif and a wall. She decided she liked it. He was, by his nature as a grim reaper, paler and colder than would be considered healthy for a human. He was a glowing being of paper white, radiating an unnatural air that Sigh had slowly grown accustomed to.

She had actually come to enjoy being in close quarters to the young man. He made her…happy. His calculating and businesslike personality was oddly complimentary to her own fiery thoughtlessness. It was perfect for comforting a young woman who would continue to weigh herself down with doubt and fear should she be left alone with her vivid imagination. It was almost as though this thoughtlessly selfish boy, the one who had torn apart her old life in the first place, had ironically become her only rock in a sea of confusion. Listening to his heartbeat –it was unnatural too. It seemed slower than a human's- she wondered if it would be weird for them to stay like this a while.

Yes. Yes it would.

She disengaged and smiled at him, glasses hanging low on her nose and drawing attention to her dancing silver eyes. She knew they were red from crying but somehow found the confidence to continue looking right at Kid. 'Thanks for trying to make me feel better, Kid.'

'Trying? Are you-' A loud cat call interrupted, a noise Patty followed with giggles.

'Hey you guys!' Liz spoke over her sister's laughter. 'Do you mind? Get a room!'

'Kissy face! Kiss kiss! Kid and Sigh are sittin' in a tree! F-u-c-'

'Patricia! You will _not _spell that vulgar word!' Kid was frowning but it was undercut by the deepening blush on his pale cheeks.

Sigh hummed. And smiled.

She had made up her mind. She could keep fighting. She was going to go see Dr. Stein."


	12. Chapter 12

**BB says: **It's taking me a while to update all of my stories but I'm getting it done…slowly. Have a cookie, all you faithful readers!

**Rating: **Teen

**Disclaimer: **I own no part of _Soul Eater_

"Madame was hiding something from her. Of this, Psyche was absolutely certain.

She only visited Madame on special days during her stay in Death City. Birthdays, Mother's Day, the Holidays, all were spent in Las Vegas, with the only family Sigh knew. Her mother was glad to see her each time, although her affection would consist only of a raised eyebrow and a grumpy grunt. The first time had been awkward for Sigh, staying in her dusty attic room that over looked a back alley with no work to do. Madame had long since hired someone to take up errands for Forbidden Fantasy, a stage hand whose name was as unoriginal as her blank, somewhat dimwitted stare. Her stitches were clumsy, her cooking was pathetic, and she seemed incapable of holding any intelligent conversation.

But the young woman got the job done, and for minimum wage, so Sigh supposed it was fine.

Sigh had spent the day wandering her home town, wondering if the place had changed at all in the months she had been gone. Nothing had, of course. There was still construction, still dank alleys and bright lights, still tourists with flashing photos and faces drunk on excitement and booze. Mr. Jenkins had missed her and told her as much but quickly fell right back to sleep behind his counter as she ran her fingertips over his old books like she had once done in a past life. It was re-visiting an old dream; so much in her life had changed since she was last in the endearingly rinky dink shop. She had seen and done more than she ever thought to…ever wanted to. And yet it seemed okay. It seemed right. And she wasn't sure she would change it, given the chance.

She had bought a book (an Almanac of the world's strangest places. Of course Death City was one) and left, returning to Death City not two days later.

And so it went. She would go home, laze about a few days –not quite able to slip back into her niche- and would vanish. Nothing seemed to feel quite right anymore. Things she once enjoyed -going to the library, eating out at the little café up the street, thrift store shopping- were duller. It wasn't that she didn't still like wandering the town, seeing the old sights and haunting her old haunts. It was still fun…in a familiarly foreign way. She found herself distracted by what she had left in Death City, wondering what her friends were up to and whether or not they were thinking of her as well.

Death City had changed Sigh, like it did most people. She could never go back to the way things were.

This particular visit Sigh came bearing gifts for her mother's birthday. Some ridulously expensive new slippers, a satin robe (courtesy of Lord Death), a sampler platter of fancy cakes, and a bottle of red wine. Madame's favorite. The older woman would drink any alcohol, really, but red wine was what she broke out when she was in an optionally good mood. Sigh had never understood the thought of celebrating with wine instead of champagne but then, Madame was a very unorthodox woman. If she wanted to pop a bottle of the red and walk around in her underwear more power to her.

The first thing Sigh noticed upon returning home was the silence. No, not what she heard. What she _felt._ Something undercutting the auras of those in the room, the girls on stage and Mr. Pop were somehow muted. There was something missing…something off-putting…

Sigh shook her head. Girls came and went from Forbidden Fantasy all the time; perhaps one had quit while she was gone? It wasn't so strange. Few stayed longer than a year or so and they were overdue for a change. Convincing herself she had figured out the mystery, Sigh strode into the room with a smile and winked at Mr. Pop as she continued on her way to her mother's office. There were eyes on her back, hard to ignore but not impossible. She forced herself not to care why they were looking at her so strangely; perhaps there was something on her back?

The girls on stage took up whispering as soon as she was out of earshot, Mr. Pop ducking out for a cigarette.

'I hear she's a witch.' Gasps danced through the group of women, a few exchanging glances. 'Really?'

'Yeah! My cousin's friend's sister's boyfriend's uncle totally works at this coffee shop in Death City and he says he had to fire a girl with purple hair because she "wasn't human". She was some sort of monster.' There was a shuffling, no one quite knowing what to do with this information. It was strange to think of a witch being in their midst, unbeknownst to them. Cooking for them, cleaning for them, smiling at them and fixing their clothes. There was a certain betrayal to be felt, a certain since of invasion.

A huff broke the ponderous silence. One woman sat up straighter, a scowl on her face. It was Iris, the one Sigh had once taken the time to help adjust to Forbidden Fantasy. The one that couldn't apply makeup and had two left feet and everyone was so certain she wouldn't last a day. But she had. Because Sigh had taken her aside in the short time they had together and had tried her hardest to help. Iris had fallen to the shadows of shyness without Sigh but somehow scratched up the courage to speak now.

'That sounds fishy. How do you even know it was Sigh?' Several young women hissed. 'Don't say her name!' whispered one, Tulip. 'You'll summon her!' Iris frowned harder. 'Sigh! I'll say it as much as I want. Sigh! How do you know it was her? How do you know she's this "monster"?' Lily, the girl with the distant acquaintance who had relieved Sigh of her job at Deathbucks, scowled. 'He said she had purple hair. How many girls do you know who have purple hair?'

'Things are different in Death City,' Iris argued. 'There are people with all sorts of weird bodies and hair and powers. And not all of them are witches. We've always known Sigh was…was different, but she's no monster.' Iris looked around at her peers, eyes wide. 'You guys, this is Sigh we're talking about here. She took care of us. Her mom gave us jobs when no one else would even look at us twice. She babysat our kids, helped us with homework, and always, _always, _smiled at us. Encouraged us. How can you talk about her like this? We _know _her!' Several young women looked ashamed of themselves. A small sect was persistent in their persecution.

'Oh yeah?' Lily sneered. 'Then why did Lord Death's son _personally _come get her?' More gasps and conspiratorial whispers. Lily crossed her arms. 'And how do you explain what happened to Gardenia and Hyacinth? If that wasn't witchcraft, I don't know what to call it!' Her supporters nodded. 'I mean, Sigh has never liked Gardenia, right? I bet she hexed Hyacinth to do her dirty work! And she's probably still using her to-'

'Idiot!' Gardenia growled, eyes narrowed. 'It was Hyacinth that hit me. No one else.' Lily stuck out her chin, quirking a dark eyebrow. 'You wouldn't know if she was being controlled! That's the point. I bet Sigh took control of her so that we'd all blame her and then-'

'You don't know anything,' Gardenia interrupted. Though Iris was surprised to have an ally in this form, she didn't interrupt. 'Sigh isn't like that. I would hit her if I could but she'd never hit me back. She's too…_weak_. Too _soft._ She's not one for fighting.'

'And that's why she sent-'

'No! Don't you get it? She's not a rat like you!' Gardenia's bark was harsh. Lily jumped. Under normal conditions she would back down -Gardenia was known for her quick temper and quicker hand- but there's something about having a group of like minds, even when wrong, that makes one brave.

'Whatever,' Lily snorted. 'Hyacinth, God help her, must have hit you really hard to knock you onto that witch's side. Or maybe she's controlling you too?' Iris barely caught Gardenia's hand before it could wrap itself in Lily hair. 'Dumb bitch,' Gardenia hissed. 'You so lucky we're at work right now or you _know _I'd beat the glitter out your ass!' Lily snorted again and tossed her chestnut hair. Confident actions, but her eyes were scared. 'Whatever.' The topic of conversation turned from Sigh's species to her morals. Did they see her shoes? Totally designer. Bet she was screwing a grim reaper for money. A witch who was gold digging a reaper for money. It was almost comical.

Iris turned to Gardenia, the other woman still fuming and glaring. 'Thanks for the back up,' she whispered, a little smile on her face. Gardenia snorted. 'All the years she could've spelled me if she was a witch, why didn't she?' the woman sighed. 'Cause she ain't like that. I don't know what's grabbed a hold of Hyacinth, but it wasn't Sigh.' She lightly touched the back of her head, where she'd had stiches. 'It wasn't Sigh. It wasn't anything I've seen before.'

The hall needed a mopping, Sigh noticed with a grimace, and made a note to alert her replacement of the poor conditions. She often wondered if Madame had simply hired the girl to give the poor thing a job, save her from the streets. The older woman was prone to such behavior.

Madame was solemn and weary looking when Sigh entered her office, kicking the door closed with her foot. 'Hello Madame,' she breezed, setting down her packages with a grace that she had developed. Training with Professor Stein left her with residual carefulness, a calm fluidity to her movements that was unconscious. It seemed that her efforts to retain her clumsiness were for naught in the end. Although she did catch her elbow on the corner of Madame's desk as she swooped to place a gift right under the old woman's nose.

'And happy birthday! Turning forty again, I assume?' she joked easily, happy to be home and with her mother. Maybe she could finally convince the older woman to give her the family's cookie recipe. Lord Death would certainly appreciate a taste, she was sure, although Patty ate anything with sugar in it. Liz would sniff a comment regarding her waistline (although the girl never gained a pound, Sigh swore food melted off her) and Kid would silently nibble at the edges. His eyes would speak for him, lighting up unconsciously when he enjoyed something. It was quite amusing.

'I have stories! Well, no more than when we last spoke on the phone, but now I can tell them more elaborately. I've recently started cleaning with this new spray cleaner and I know you said talking about this stuff makes me sound like a housewife but Madame,' Sigh rolled her eyes dramatically. Madame was silent.

'The stuff is a miracle! It can get red out of whites so easily! I thought it would bleach the colors but it just made them brighter! I heard the creator is a witch but I mean, really? What witch do you know who would use her magic making cleaning products?' Sigh shook her head and smiled, jumping topics. 'Oh! And Fire and Thunder are so cute! You would love them! They're getting to that age where they're trying to become their own people. I think I'm gonna buy Thunder some lip-gloss. You know, that kind they make for little kids? She needs more, I don't know, girl in her life. Growing up with guys must be rough.'

Madame was still silent. She was watching her daughter's face light up as she spoke of her new life. 'Do you remember when I was young? I mean, I was never much for dress up, but looking at her…I don't know. It makes me feel like a big sister, you know? And she and Fire love me so much. A part of me is scared of letting them down although Kilik says they worship the ground I walk on. And…' Madame's hand curled on her empty pack of cigarettes. She had smoked them all in one morning, trying to drown out the ache in her chest at the thought of her next words. She finally felt herself loosen, knowing her daughter could 'sense her aura' or whatever when the younger woman stopped midsentence.

Sigh's eyes were wide as she looked at Madame, trying to discern something from her face. Madame was stoically still, face empty as ashes fell from the filter between her lips.

'What?' Sigh's voice was hesitant and a bit afraid, fingers reaching across the distance of the table. The woman was just out of reach, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. 'What is it? Are you mad at me? You know I'm clueless; you have to tell me if you are,' Sigh tried to ease the tension with jest. It didn't work. 'Mom, please. What is it?' Madame took a breath.

'I want you to come home.' It was silent a moment, Sigh processing her mother's words before chuckling uncertainly. 'I _am _home, Madame. I'm right here.'

'No,' the older woman growled. 'I want you home for good. I want you to move back in, and that's final.' Sigh's eyes grew wide once more, searching the older woman's face. Lips a thin line, eyes burning and body tense. She was serious. Sigh felt her temper flare up, eyes narrowing into little slits of agitation. 'No.' Madame grit her teeth around her cigarette, face hardening as she watched her daughter cross her arms in defiance. She knew this would happen, she fucking _knew it._

'What do you mean, "no"?'

'What did it sound like? No, Madame, I am not moving back in.' Madame sat up straighter. 'Yes, you are Psyche. This is not up for discussion.' Sigh scowled. 'You're right, it's not. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you that I'm not going to do.'

'_You _do not tell _me _anything, you little snit,' Madame snarled. 'I'm the parent here and I'm telling you what I want done.' Sigh fumed. 'And I said no! I'm not a little kid anymore! You can't just order me around! You can't make me do anything I don't want to do!' Madame stood so fast her chair fell backwards, aura lunging forward as though to strangle Sigh. It was terrifying, like being struck in the face with a brick wall. Madame's aura was always one of the more powerful ones Sigh had ever felt. Thick, proud, and reeking of strength. She recalled Lord Death saying once that Anais Éclair was in possession of a powerful soul, one worth ninety-nine others.

'I will _never _lose my right to order you around! How dare you argue with me over such a thing?' Madame hissed. 'How dare you imply that you are anything but _my child _and that I have no right as _your mother _to give you a task and expect you to follow it? You _will _move back in, you _will _call up your reaping boy and give him your letter of resignation, and you _will _be settled in by next Monday. _At the latest. _Am I understood?' Sigh stood as well, glaring despite the fact that hers paled in comparison to Madame's. Despite the fact that looking Madame in the eye was almost physically painful.

'I said no! You can't just send me away and then think I'll just pack up and come back on a whim of yours! You can't just expect me to drop everything, abandon _everything_ to live in some attic! I'm my own person now! I have a _life!_ I'm an _adult!_'

'You will always be some snot nosed brat afraid of meeting people and refusing to leave your room!' Madame sneered meanly. 'You will always be a childish, selfish little girl who would have _nothing _if it weren't for me! I gave you everything! A home, a bed, every fucking meal you can remember! And all I ask for in return is your respect! Your trust! For you to listen to me when I say that you NEED TO COME HOME!'

'NO!'

'I AM YOUR MOTHER!'

'NO YOU ARE NOT!' A flash of pain on Madame's face was quickly paved over by rocky anger. Realization dawned on her, and smirk curling upon her face like a wisp of smoke.

'Oh my God,' she hummed with faux pleasantness. 'You found her, didn't you?' Sigh bit her lip, answer frozen on her tongue as she watched venomous honey pour from Madame. She hadn't meant to say such a thing, to voice her foolish doubts in such a way. She had meant to bring them up in a moment of calm, of love, of celebration; not in one of anger. But now, oh now, it was so bad. Even Madame's aura was recoiling for Sigh's body, and the young woman wanted nothing more than to snatch it back.

'So,' Madame plopped back down in her seat with a grunt. Her hips popped as she adjusted. 'Where is she then? Where is this great mother of yours? Someone so wonderful and sweet she left you to wander while she did whatever the Hell she was doing?' Sigh balled her fists, nails creating half-moons on her palms. 'She's dead.' Madame quirked an eyebrow. 'Oh? I'm so sorry. I know how hard it is to lose a parent.'

'Stop mocking me,' Sigh hissed. Madame shook her head, eyes falsely sweet. 'Oh, I'm not mocking you, Miss…er, what is your name now? If you're not _my _child, it can't be Psyche. So, who are you, stranger?' Sigh frowned, anger melting into cool, powerful resentment. It felt like Madame was patronizing Sigh's frustration. A frustration that fueled the bitterness stirring in her belly. She turned on her heel.

'I'm going home.' Madame shrugged. 'Then go. You don't need my permission. Go live your life, Stranger. It has nothing to do with me.' Sigh prickled. 'You're right. It doesn't. It's none of your fucking business what I do you bitter old cow.' She snatched open the door aggressively. 'This has been lovely, Madame Éclair. But don't expect me back. Ever.' The door slammed behind her so hard the little picture on Madame's desk, held up by nothing but aging magnets, flittered to the floor with a wisp of a sound.

Madame wanted to go after her. Wanted to drag her back by her ears and lock her in the attic like a wicked witch and her precious princess. She was the bad guy? Then so be it! Anything just to know her one true treasure was safe.

Because after weeks of searching, of pulling apart Las Vegas by the filthy seams of its underbelly, she still couldn't find that damn locket. The one thing in this world that dared to target something Madame had deemed worthy of her protection. The one thing she thought she was owed after working for the greater good most her life. Where the Hell was karma when you needed it? It was indebted to Anais Éclair and had thus far only paid her in shit and pain. This was just another phlegm filled wad that had been hawked into her face by fate, just another spiteful middle finger thrust up to mock her just as she was settling into a state of contentment. Well, she wasn't going to take it. She never took shit from anybody. Like Hell she was going to let something be stolen from under her nose _again._

Madame could and would tear anyone to shreds for the sake of her child. She had _decimated _the gang responsible for her son's death.

But how could she protect Sigh when the young woman was all the way in Death City? How could she trust she would be safe and cared for, that that fucking _monster _wouldn't find her when Madame had her back turned? There was no guarantee. The only way was to bring Sigh back home. Bolt up the door and stand in front of it, ready to maim and protect, damn it, _protect _like a dragon and its gold. She would fight until her old legs gave out, until there was nothing left of her, until…

She was stopped from going after Sigh by a single question, one that had haunted her for years.

If she were to die, right then, what would the younger woman do?

Her hand froze on the door. For the first time, Madame had an answer.

Sigh had just conquered the last mountain, one composed of the psychological need to cling to home. She had done the impossible, standing up to her mother in a way that neither of them had ever seen as possible. She had severed a stunted branch, no longer held captive by a security blanket. Somewhere along the line, Sigh had gotten stronger.

Madame's face contorted and seized as it formed a fool's smile, big and bright and one that only Sigh could bring out of her. There were tears in her eyes and they surprised her because she hadn't cried in _years._

'You little bitch,' affection dripped from her words as she sank to the ground, suddenly tired and feeling every second of her age. 'You don't need me anymore, do you?' She spat her cold cigarette onto the old carpet, shaking fingers wiping at her tears. 'Well that's too bad for me, I guess. Cause I still need you.'

That night, when it all culminated with magic and weapons, Madame held no fear. Not for herself, not for her daughter. Because she knew the girl would be safe. She knew it with the mother's intuition that would never quite leave. She had always known it, from the first time she had looked into the face of the most solemn child she had ever met. She fell to the dust, smiling as her eyes closed. Her last thoughts before the black were of her little girl."

The narrator's was a grim line but she continued speaking without much of a break.

"Death the Kid was quite happy. Or perhaps just contentment? Ah, it didn't matter. It was a nice day and his home, for once, was quiet. Liz had taken Patty dress shopping, as the Foundation Commemoration (or the Founder's Day Ball, as some had come to call it) was once again upon them. Admittedly, they still had a whole week to prepare, but with many other young women roaming the streets in search of evening wear Kid supposed it was wiser to leave early. He had whole heartedly approved of their trip, half-heartedly handed over his credit card, and only whimpering a little at the thought of their dresses (which were bound not to match).

He wondered if Sigh was going to attend the Ball, but quickly shook the thought away. Of course she wasn't. Sigh was a self-proclaimed hermit who avoided most social occasions and would only be dragged to such a thing kicking and screaming. She would then proceed to curse and glare the entire time and one simply could not have cursing and glaring at the Foundation Commemoration. If she wanted to go, she would be welcome. But Kid was not going to force the point.

Besides, the young maid had been in a dower mood ever since returning from Las Vegas. It was alarming, but Kid feared the reason and had yet to summon the courage to ask. It was now well within his rights to ask of her affairs at home -they were friends after all- but something in her eyes spoke of a deep vein of hurt that he did not wish to tread upon. Truthfully, he was afraid she would reveal to him a pain he had no hope of ending. Something he could do nothing about.

He tried to make her life simple. Tried to avoid arguments, even the petty ones, and allowed her the space he assumed she needed. It made him ache to do so, to have to ignore the pain in her eyes. What could he do but make it worse? What could he do, period? Was there anything? Would she tell him? Unlikely. She may even be upset with him for asking. Should he risk it anyway? Damn it, all this angst was ruining his peaceful afternoon.

A knock, one done with the brass knocker so that it echoed through the first floor of the estate, came at the door. By the time he had made it from the library to the foyer (quite a walk, really) Sigh had already opened it.

Kid stiffened.

'Eris,' he spoke with cool congeniality to their guest. 'I wasn't expecting you.' The young woman strode into the mansion like she owned it. Long hair the color of honey, shiny and soft like spun silk. She had pale smooth skin and a fine boned body, pink pouting lips set in a face that was the shape of a heart. Her eyes were a lovely shade of spring time green and were flanked by fields of fine lashes. She was very beautiful. And her aura –large and oak colored- told Sigh she was an immortal.

'Of course you weren't, Jr. That's what puts the "surprise" in "surprise visit".' Kid winced. 'I prefer "Kid" Eris. You know that.' Eris smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes, eyes that were now inspecting Sigh with curiosity. Like the maid was some sort of interesting animal the immortal woman had happened upon. Sigh inspected her back, although her hands bunched in her tacky apron. Something about the so-named Eris had her guard up. She seemed familiar somehow. Like a reoccurring rash in a different location.

A frown formed on Eris' smooth brow as she strode over to Sigh, grabbing the girl by the face. She ran her hands over caramel skin, peering into Sigh's eyes and lightly pinching as though to feel the warmth. 'Fascinating,' Eris muttered, and Sigh resisted the urge to look to Kid for help. She was startled and unsure how to proceed; for all she knew this was the traditional greeting of whatever manner of creature Eris was.

After a very uncomfortable few moments, Eris finally stepped away while maintaining eye contact with Sigh. Sigh stared back, a deer in headlights. Silence. Kid looked from young woman to young woman, unsure what to do.

'Eris, what are you doing here?' She turned back to Kid, smile that had disappeared back on her face. 'Can I not visit my favorite friend once in a while?' The young reaper frowned. 'You haven't visited in years.'

'And I've missed you. Not to mention your father's annual little party is soon, right?' Kid nodded solemnly. 'Well, I hope to attend this year.' That was also odd. Eris, and nearly every other immortal, chose to keep as far away from gatherings of mortals as often as possible. It tended to get nasty, ending with humans in awe (or dead) and immortals greatly agitated.

Kid said this to her in not so many words and Eris merely smiled again. 'Oh, I can bear it for one night. It's also your birthday isn't it? How old are you turning? Hundred-three?' Kid put his hands in his pockets. 'One hundred and five.'

'A big birthday. You're still so young.' Sigh gaped. She figured that Kid was older than he looked but _damn. _'I don't celebrate my own birthdays. And neither do you.'

'It's pointless.'

'Right. So why are you here?'

'I told you already.'

'But the Founder's Day Ball is still days away,' Sigh interrupted. Her eyes were glinting with curiosity, fascinated at the interaction between two immortals. They seemed to be bickering childishly despite their calm voices and polite words. It was actually funny to watch and Sigh had a small smile on her face as she spoke. 'You are really early if that's the only reason you're in town.' A dark cloud flashed over Eris' face, bright smile faltering a bit. 'The _help,_' she snipped 'will remember its place and not interrupt.' Sigh's eyes narrowed. 'What?'

'You heard me, Serving Girl. You would do well to remember your place while your superiors are speaking.' Sigh's eyes were wide in disbelief. She felt heat rising on the back of her neck as her anger slowly began gnawing at her resolve. Kid made eye contact over Eris' shoulder, shooting Sigh a warning.

_Do not engage. _

And though her temper was boiling in her gut, Sigh somehow forced down the urge to scream. A smile wiggled its way onto her face. It was actually sort of scary looking. Kid raised an eyebrow as he noted the pained look of submission on Sigh's face.

'Apologies,' she ground out, razors in her eyes as she looked at Eris. 'Would you care for some tea, Mistress?' Her voice was gravelly with offense. Eris didn't seem to notice. 'That would be lovely. Hop to it and don't forget the lemon. Why don't we continue this conversation in the parlor, Jr.? I'm a bit winded from my journey and could use a sit.' Kid nodded solemnly. 'Of course. Sigh, would you mind breaking out the good china?'

'No, Young Master. It is, quite literally, my job.' Kid nodded, although he had the distinct impression Sigh was upset with him.

Kid was glad he had not allowed his weapons to remodel the parlor like they had wanted to. It still had the old portraits of his distant relatives, still had the gothic style rod iron fireplace, still had the ancient wall paper depicting his father's trademark skulls. The furniture was as hard and uncomfortable as ever while still looking formal and expensive. Black curtains with not a speck of dust upon them were drawn to keep out the sun. Kid moved to allow in the natural light before sitting across from his guest.

His meeting with Eris was uncomfortable as one could expect. She was everything she supposed to be as Grace's daughter; poised, precise, in possession of a certain degree of arrogance. She was beautiful like her mother but had her father's vengefully simmering temper and, well, eyes. He remembered once, when they were younger and still very close, he had made a joke of this fact. She had laughed until she snorted, something that she would never do now, not as the woman she had become. The children of the most powerful immortals had been very good friends growing up. It is very logical when one thinks about it. Their parents were friends so it only makes sense they should share a special bond.

But then had come the fateful day his imprinting had come into question. Did it not make sense he imprint on another immortal? One who shared his interests and lifespan, enough to be considered a friend? Is friendship not one step away from love? He cringed just to think of the day, the day their parents had brought them together for more than just a play date. He should have known from his father's face -distinctly uncomfortable, even hidden by a mask- and the grinning face of Grace.

'Little Death,' the eldest Fate had cooed, her daughter looking at her curiously. 'Do you have anyone yet?' He hadn't understood the question, and had looked to Lord Death for explanation. 'Well son? Anyone peaked your interest?' Again, Kid drew a blank. Father Time rolled his eyes, North giving him a piteous look as Zephyr began floating away, bored. Lord Death looked uncomfortable as he rephrased the question. 'Kiddo, do you have any crushes we should know about? Seen anyone you find…passable?'

'I'm…not sure I understand the question…'

'For Pete's sake!' the master of time finally snapped. 'Have you imprinted on Eris, boy?' He had jumped back, surprised and speaking before he could think. 'What? No!' The air had grown thick, the single eye of the sisters of Fate sudden growing cold. Kid felt as though his voice had been much too loud, like all of Death City had heard him.

'No?' Grace's voice was calm. Too calm. Kid's eyes widened, uncertain of what he had done wrong. He made the mistake of looking to Eris, whose face was suddenly mottled red, pain in her eyes. 'No,' he said slowly. 'We're friends. Right Eris?' The young girl had pursed her lips before turning heel and running from the room. Her mother went after her, cursing reapers everywhere as she went to retrieve her daughter.

Never again did Kid see Eris in a casual, mutually comfortable manner. It was always business or hap chance; her face drawn in a professional smile while his stayed smooth and apathetic. Occasionally Grace would approach Lord Death and still attempt to sell him her daughter, attempt to create that union between two powerful families. But Death would shake his head and decline. It was Kid's decision, the decision of his instincts and his heart. There was little to be done about it.

Kid frowned as he made small talk with his former friend, beating away memories and sensing the true meaning of this visit. It was more than just for idle chat and reminiscing, certainly. Why else was she continuously calling Sigh into the room for simply things? Fetching more tea and more sugar cubes and some lady fingers and perhaps some sandwiches? Her eyes would follow Sigh every time the maid entered the room, gaze calculating and curious in a dangerous way that made Kid's gut wrench. He felt his alarms go off even while Sigh's seemed to be out of order (save for the red flames of fury and irritation). He knew that this was more than just Eris being spiteful and rude, it was something that was a harbinger of future curious guests.

The immortal world had taken an interest in Sigh.

And, for some reason, that scared him far more than anything else. Maybe because he knew what to expect from immortals, knew what to expect from beings that had lived so long they knew no laws save for their own.

'She's not my pet, Eris,' he said through tight lips as the young woman made to leave. It was an offended whisper. 'She's my maid. My friend. And I don't want you treating her as anything less.' Eris blinked her big beautiful eyes beguilingly. Kid only scowled harder at her. 'Why Jr.,' she cooed. 'How could you imply impure intentions? I missed you so.'

'Do not toy with me, Eris, I'm serious. She's not something for you to play with, not some form of entertainment.' The young woman shrugged, forming a knowing and somehow unsettling, smile. 'Again, I wonder what it is about my character that makes you command such a thing. No matter, I guess. I just came to see what had upset Mother so much. This "friend" of yours is going to be really entertaining, I can tell. Although,' she pouted her lips 'I fear what will happen to the poor thing if she continues to toy in our business.'

'She is not here of her own volition.'

'No,' the daughter of Fate looked at Death's son meaningfully. 'She is not. She made no effort to be here, in this place, with you. Nor does she belong.' Eris placed a hand on Kid's chest, leaning into his face. 'No matter how you wish her to.'

She turned and shot a faux smile at Sigh. The maid had opened the door and was patiently folding her hands together as she waited for Eris to leave. 'What a good little girl you are!' Eris chirped. 'I want one of you in my own home!' She reached out, perhaps to tweak Sigh's cheek, but the young woman leaned back out of her reach. 'Please don't touch me, Mistress,' she deadpanned. 'I believe I'm allergic to your lotion.'

Eris' smile grew confused. 'I am not wearing lotion, Serving Girl.' Sigh cocked her head to the side. 'No? Then why do you make my skin crawl?' Eris narrowed her eyes, unsure how to prove Sigh had just insulted her. The maid smiled politely. 'Have a lovely stay in Death City, Mistress.' Eris sniffed, eying her. 'I shall, Serving Girl. And try to remember your place next time. Where you belong,' the blonde girl sent a look to Kid. 'And where you don't.'

The entire manor breathed in relief when Eris left.

Sigh thought that Kid would relax once his unwanted guest had excused herself. She thought the young reaper would take a breath, as he did when finishing something he was loath to do, and stride from the room to engage in some other productive activity.

To her surprise the tension only seemed to mount. He began pacing, his hand finding his hair and his nails scratching distractedly. He began to mutter to himself in what sounded like Latin and, based on the tone, it was safe to assume he was cursing. She watched him for a stretch of time, unwilling to move and gain his attention because frankly this was entertaining. Sigh was stock still, eying him out of the corners of her vision as she pretended to rub at a spot on her apron. She jumped as he suddenly froze, foot still in mid-step before slowly coming to the ground.

He then ran from the room.

Sigh breathed.

'Crazy-ass grim reaper.' And she turned to go back into the kitchen, thinking to maybe start dinner before Liz and Patty came home. She had hardly taken a step before the young reaper had reappeared, pulling his arms through his jacket.

'What time is it, Sigh?' She shrugged. "A little after four, I think.'

'Good. The stores are still open but shouldn't be all that crowded.' Sigh nodded. 'Right. I'll see you later.' When his footsteps didn't continue and the door didn't open, she turned to look at him. Kid was granting her a curious look of confusion, like he thought she had hit her head. 'What?' He blinked.

'You're coming with me.' Sigh frowned. 'Wha? No. Why?' Kid continued to look at her like she was strange but it was flavored with impatience. 'How else am I going to have you sized for a dress?'

'A dress for what, Death the Kid?'

'You're just being difficult, now.' She raised her eyebrow and Kid scowled. 'The Foundation Commemoration, of course. And don't think feigning ignorance will get you out of going.' Sigh crossed her arms and planted her feet. 'It won't. But the fact that I don't want to go, will.'

'I'm not asking you, Psyche.'

'Too bad. Not going.' It would just be prom all over again. All dolled up and no one to dance with.

'Yes, you are!'

'No!'

'Psyche!'

'I don't even have a dress!'

'That's why I'm buying you one!'

'You could by me a freaking _car _and I still wouldn't go.' Kid was frowning in earnest now, trying to figure out how to unwind his maid. She had taken the universal stance of stubborn and he was quite certain not even a train could move her at this point. She didn't understand why she _had _to go, why she _needed _to put herself out there for at least one night.

If immortals got one, good look at her and saw that she was just an average girl undeserving of their attention, maybe they would leave her alone. Maybe they would categorize her as useless, boring, nothing shiny to be toyed with. It wasn't a flawless plan, but it was better than nothing. Sigh didn't need the eyes of the Immortals on her among other things; their attention was like a cancer, eating away at the hearts and minds of people until there was little left of them. Until nothing was left but misery and doom.

Orion.

Orpheus

Hyacinthus.

The list of victims goes on for miles. The beautiful and brave seemed to suffer the worse fates and to Kid Sigh was a combination of both. His fingers flexed, longing to become a fist of frustration. Was there no safe place for her? Was everyone seeking to end her in some form?

He took a breath.

'It will count as overtime.'

In the very first dress shop Sigh picked up the very first dress on the very first rack. 'This one. Can we go now?' Kid frowned. 'Did you even look at it? It's hideous!'

'What's wrong with it?' Sigh asked defensively. 'It's fine!' It was an unfortunate shade of green with large powder balls for sleeves and a skirt that seemed to be made of green ostrich feathers. 'It's completely unflattering! You'd look like an idiot!' He had similar commentary for the next dress she chose. And the next. And the next. They ended up leaving that shop because Kid kept shooting down her selections and Sigh kept picking the most hideous dresses on the racks.

The next shop wasn't much better.

Or the next.

Kid eventually got wise and chose the next store himself.

The woman that greeted them seemed to have something against ratty jeans and sneakers, not that Sigh gave two spits what the woman deemed appropriate. She glared right back, in too foul a mood to even think of backing down. The woman promptly turned her attention to Kid, the more appealing of the two, and smiled brightly. 'Good afternoon. Can I help you find something in particular?'

'A dress,' and, realizing this was too vague 'something that suits her. Nothing with gladiolas or fake pearls, please.'

'Price range?'

'It doesn't matter.' Judging by the woman's sudden smile for Sigh it was safe to assume she worked on commission. 'Yes Sir. Just give me one moment.'

'We should have done this in the first place,' Kid hummed. 'Everything goes faster when you don't get a say in it.' Sigh made to speak but a long white finger settled on her lips. 'Don't throw a wrench in just as I've got things in motion.' Kid may have kept his hand on her face a second longer than necessary, but if Sigh noticed she didn't mention it. She was too occupied by the fact he had basically told her to shut up. But, oh, she would have her revenge.

'So. Do you have a favorite color?' With the promise of a big payout if she succeeded, the woman was suddenly very friendly. And very eager to find Sigh something she liked. They stood in a large dressing room, Kid waiting on one of the stools provided for captive husbands and brothers and dads. 'Yes.' When the younger woman didn't continue, the shop worker frowned a bit. 'Are you going to tell me?'

'Yellow.'

'Oh,' she frowned harder. 'Well, yellow wouldn't suit your…hair, very well.'

'And I don't wear it often, so there's no issue there.' The woman nodded, continuing her measurements. 'And his?' Sigh cocked her head to the side. 'His what?'

'Favorite color, of course. What's his favorite color?' Sigh blinked, mulling it over. 'Huh. I've never really asked him.'

'Well,' the woman sighed. 'We'll just have to try everything, won't we?'

How Psyche still managed to find the ugliest dresses in the shop to model in were beyond Kid. And, judging from the look on the shop woman's face, it was beyond her too. After all, she had supposedly chosen a selection for the young woman to try on, the most beautiful and intricate dresses (probably the most expensive as well) thrust upon the unwilling maid with the hopes she would cave beneath the weight. It was sadly in vain; no matter how bright the fabric or how graceful the cut, each and every gown was somehow heinously atrocious when the disgruntled Sigh spun for Kid. The colors seemed dim and the fabrics coarse. The once gently flowing folds seemed clumsy and overdone while each and every cut seemed either too large or too small; each less flattering than the last.

After nearly two hours of agony, Kid threw up his hands. It could be nothing but magic on Sigh's part and if she insisted on her obstinacy who was he to stop her? 'Stop it,' he hissed, their confused sales associate temporarily dismissed so they could have a word in private. 'It's both a waste of magic and _incredibly _childish.' Sigh pouted like it was she who was wronged but didn't, _couldn't, _deny his accusations. The young reaper ground something that sounded like 'I'll be outside' and escaped with a huff.

Sigh looked after him, feeling a pinch of guilt. He was only trying to do her a favor, after all, and couldn't understand what had caused her mulish behavior.

Fear fueled her actions.

If she was irresistible _now, _what would happen if she actually _tried _to be beautiful?

The apocalypse?

So she bit her lip and turned back to her fitting room, unbuttoning and unzipping on the way. Her assistant was there to meet her and silently stood in front of her door as she changed. It was really a lovely dress. Silvery grey with sequined seams, light and airy to make her footsteps appear to be graceful. It was shaped to accentuate one's femininity and was short enough to make legs seem longer and lith. Beautiful. The girl in Sigh ached for it. The practical young woman scoffed.

She would go to the Foundation Commemoration in a blouse and slacks. Kid would scowl and throw a hissy fit but, bound by his word, he would still be forced to pay her. It would all be fine. There was nothing to be done. She had cursed herself before she even knew herself, and was now dealing with the consequences. Everyone would also see her as a pretty piece of meat. Well, not everyone, but most…

The wiccan halted.

She turned to her keeper, one brow quirked and a curious expression twisted upon her lips.

'Do you like me?' The question seemed to catch the woman off guard and she stumbled. 'E-excuse me?'

'Do you like me?' The woman hesitated, looking away and back before answering her odd customer. 'Of course. You are a welcome guest in this store.' Lie. Sigh watched her royal purple aura jerk with the falsehood.

She kicked herself for being so stupid.

The first time was Mr. Jenkins. He had never shown anything but professionalism towards Sigh, a mild kindness that one can develop for a frequent customer.

Next was Gardenia. She should have known something was off when the woman was able to develop such a dislike for her. Not overtime, all at once. She had frowned at Sigh upon their first meeting and it had spiraled down from there.

And then her boss at Deathbucks. Firing her with a look that mirrored more fear than ardor.

Dr. Stein almost killed her for no reason.

Eris was unimpressed.

Little moments in her life where Allure couldn't or wouldn't interfere.

What was it about these people? Why could they see her as an average person and not some revered being to be admired and, for kishin eggs, eaten?

Or maybe the real question was for others. Why did the rest of the world fall so heavily?

Sigh looked at this woman, this petty little woman who had judged her the moment she walked in the door and deemed her unacceptable. She examined how she had felt at that moment when those judging eyes alighted on her. Aside from the irritation she had felt for Kid, she had felt…

Offended.

Spiteful.

Angry.

But no, it couldn't have been those emotions that stifled the power of Allure. She easily developed those feelings for people affected by Allure, and that released them no faster.

Okay then. What _hadn't _she felt?

Love?

No, that couldn't be it. Love, like anger, was not something Sigh would give without reason. She didn't love random strangers on the street who decided to love her suddenly.

Peace?

No, she was always at peace in Mr. Jenkins' shop and Allure had no power there.

Fear?

…

…

…ah?

Her grey gaze darkened with the thought.

Could it be…? Was Allure nothing more than a defense mechanism for her, a wall of false worship and love, constructed to protect her from those she unconsciously feared? Lord Death, a being she had been frightened of, had noted Allure. So had his weapon, a being touched by the grip of Death and also having the power to kill her. She was a shy girl, used to being teased and mocked for being nothing more than herself. Used to being hated for being different. Beneath a hard shell of spite and anger was a shaking mass of whimpering injury. Was it so hard to believe that the world had become a scary place for her, a blind world full of hollow people that sought to hurt her?

Apparently some part of her felt this way. And that part was casting Allure, stealing little increments of aura from those around her.

She did not fear Gardenia. Or Mr. Jenkins. Or her former boss or Dr. Stein or this woman. It all seemed so obvious now she wondered how she had missed it so long.

This epiphany burned something in her quite painfully; was she so weak?

Another part of her took flight; did that mean her friends were her own? They truly liked her, even without Allure?

All these years, people had not been getting used to _her, she _had been getting used to _them?_

Sigh turned her attention back to this woman, a beaming smile on her face that only increased the wariness of the woman's gaze. 'Did you have any more monotone dresses? I don't want anything that clashes with my hair.' The woman was still looking at her oddly but brightened at the prospect of saving the sale. 'Yes. But you have to pick something today if we're going to have time to tailor one to your size properly.' Sigh shrugged, still glowing with joy. 'That's fine. I pickpocket him whenever he annoys me and he brought one of his credit cards.' The woman smiled in earnest now. 'All right then. Wait right there, Miss…?'

'Psyche Éclair. Call me Sigh.'

Sigh did not, nor had she ever feared Madame. Well, no more than any child fears their mother. So that meant Madame really loved her…she always had…from the moment she found that little urchin in the gutter…

Sigh fought down a sudden breathless sensation, tears threatening at the backs of her eyes."


	13. Chapter 13

**BB says: **I'm actually not really that talkative today…although it would be totally awesome if the manga I'm addicted to would update…I'm dying…I need my manga…

**Rating: **Teen. Although the sequel, I have decided, with definitely be M

**Disclaimer: **Now, now, you all know I own not part of _Soul Eater, _manga, anime, or merchandise. It's just not logical.

**BB says some more: **someone needs to let Kid know it's statistically impossible for a woman to have breasts that are perfectly symmetrical…

"'I'm not going.' Liz paused in the adjustment of her rollers and Maka smudged her lipstick. Patti, the closest to being ready, was toying with the straps of one of Tsubaki's shoes as the young Japanese woman searched for her earrings. They had all gathered in the home of Death the Kid, the young reaper and his male friends having left to assist in the final touches of the Foundation Day Ball.

The girls had also been expected to attend, to be amongst the first to arrive as prized students of Shibusen. As the boys in their group came to realize that it takes girls much longer to get ready than boys (a fact that really should have been obvious after years of attending the ball together) they had surrendered and escaped the abundance of estrogen and giggles.

Perhaps out of habit, Sigh held off on making any move to get herself ready until everyone around her was settled. Liz's room had been plenty big enough for all of them to change and chat in, applying makeup and twisting hair into intricate styles that would be impossible for one to accomplish on her own. Sigh had been a superstar in the process, her friends in awe of all the primping she was capable of after years of working in show business. The little secrets that made a world of difference. And really Sigh was happy with just that, just being able to make them happy with what she knew.

She had showered and her nails were painted, but that was all the preparation she had allotted for herself. Maybe, despite spending Kid's money on the dress and the shoes and the alterations, she had known all along it would end up like this. Sitting in a room in her faded pajamas, hair snatched into a high pony tail just to keep it out of her face, eying the mess she would have to clean up. She was a maid, after all.

She waited until legs were shaved and eyebrows plucked, nails painted and base applied, hair sprayed and primped and teased and finally, as everyone else was starting to place the final touches before slipping into their dresses, they noticed Sigh had yet to do anything concrete for herself.

The Foundation Commemoration was set to begin in less than an hour. Hardly enough time.

Needless to say, Liz and Maka had quite a few choice words for Sigh, Patty snickering in the background and Tsubaki trying to gently coax Sigh into getting a move on. But it was too late.

'I just…I can't. Lost track of time.' Maka's face contorted into upset, Liz's more of complete disbelief. 'But Sigh, you already bought the dress,' Tsubaki tried to reason. 'I mean, it's perfectly sized for you and everything.'

'And isn't Kid paying you extra to go? You can't just back out now,' Liz added with a huff.

'_Technically_ he hasn't paid me yet,' Sigh shrugged and wiped her make-up stained hands on her pants. They were old sweats, spotty and with the elastic waistband tired. Her hair was a frizzy mess of purple curls with several powder brushes sticking out. 'I still time to back out. It just wouldn't work otherwise. I'll just return the dress and-'

'Hold on,' Maka interrupted. 'Why wasn't it going to work?' Sigh pouted, although it was possible to see a hard insecurity behind her eyes. 'You know. I'm just…I'm not…this just isn't my thing.' She wasn't cut out to be out front; the entire time she had been helping her friends get ready, Sigh had been reminded of this fact. She had been reminded that she was a better caretaker than anything else. And as she eyed that plastic covered dress still draped over Liz's vanity chair, the shoes that sat under the desk, she just couldn't see herself in them.

'What? You…' Maka took a breath, calming down. 'Sigh, I get it if you're nervous. This is _way_ outside your comfort zone. But if you don't at least try…I mean, you've come all this _way-_'

'You bought a flippin' dress!' Liz crowed. 'With Kid's money, under his nose, and he didn't even notice! That sorta sneak-shopping is worthy of flaunting!'

'And you would look so pretty! The color befits you very well.' Tsubaki had a gentle smile on her face.

'Let's go! No one likes being on time anyway.' Patty's ability to read the situation and say linear things at the right time was incredible. It was a quality of the young woman that Sigh had come to recognize over time. But she still waved her hand. 'It's fine guys. I'll go next year, I promise.' She brushed one of many wayward curls from her face, eyes shy behind her glasses. 'Just…go. Please. And have_ fun_'

She zipped dresses and sprinkled perfume, trying not to feel the dampened mood in the room as her friends put the final touches on their outfits. Lovely all of them. Sigh smiled.

Who did she think she was? Some beautiful girl to be paraded around? Someone smart and pretty like Maka, bombshells like the Thompsons, an angel like Tsubaki? No. She was Sigh. Plain little Sigh. The girl who only got attention because of a spell she couldn't remember casting. This doubt, this fear, it had been building in her for days. She thought it would perhaps vanish once the final adjustments on her dress had been made, once Liz had taken her shoe shopping and the eve of the ball approached. But she had been wrong. It had only gotten worse. And Sigh was never one to ignore gut feelings (often).

Maka pulled her close and Sigh was careful not to lean too heavily on the other girl. She was afraid of ruining Maka's dress, one of sea foam green that somehow set off the spectrum of color in the sandy blonde's eyes.

'Next year? You promise?'

'Hand over heart. I'm good on promises cause I hate when other people break them.' Sigh let her smile shrink, eyes wide and sincere as she looked at her friend. 'Thanks anyway, Maka.' They stood there a moment, looking at each other. Sigh hated the look of pity on the blonde's sweetly warm face, her gaze questioning. Sigh could hardly meet her eyes; of all the new friends she had made, of all the people she had met, Maka had the strangest ability to make Sigh feel…guilty. No, not quite. She made her feel accepted, and through that acceptance, guilt arose from Sigh's own inability to understand it. It was incredible and terrifying and Sigh was certain, given the time, she and Maka could kindle a friendship she had never had before.

'Sigh,' Maka said slowly. The other girls had already left the room, accepting Sigh's refusals with a grain of salt. Tsubaki was always one to accept the spinner decisions of others. Liz had almost been certain Sigh would not go anyway, despite her posturing. She wanted the girl to go but also recognized when she was helpless. Besides, she couldn't keep her date, a nice guy by the name of Clay Sizemore, waiting too long. And Patty, sweet girl of whimsy action, simply wasn't sure she cared whether Sigh went or not. She wasn't being cruel. Both she and her sister had been affected in different ways by their mottled pasts on the streets. While Liz had become critical and careful, Patty had simply decided there was no point in worrying over what she couldn't help. So why not go crazy?

'There's nothing I can say?' Sigh smiled stiffly. 'Look at me, Maka,' she whispered so low it was almost a breath. 'I'm no princess. I'm not…I'm just not. There's nothing for me at a ball.' Maka opened and shut her mouth, weighing her words before she spoke. 'That's not true Sigh. You're _beautiful_! If any one of us is a princess, it's you!' Sigh shook her head. 'It's not really my scene anyway. I don't feel like I'm ready for it.'

'Sigh-'

'No. I'm sorry Maka. Go make the most of your night.' Maka pursed her pink lips. Sigh gently pushed a curl from the blonde's complicated style back into place, smiling. Not to brag but it was a real masterpiece. Sigh was quite proud of it. 'Go on. You're already late.' The seriousness in Maka's eyes was direct contrast to the innocent prettiness that seemed highlighted in her that night. 'Next year, Sigh?'

Sigh nodded, averting her eyes.

She tried not to wince as the sound of the front door shutting snipped the voice of her friends in half. Sigh always felt a sort of pride when she watched performers dancing and singing in costumes she had sewn, smiling with lips she had rouged, tossing hair she had curled. This pride translated well into watching her friends leave. Masterpieces. The silence of the manor had never been as heavy as it was in this moment; a young woman resting on an ottoman with her dress draped across her lap accusingly.

Sigh stood abruptly, forcing herself to move from this chilly reverie and beginning a long night of chores. Liz's room was a total mess; open jars of finishing cream and lotion, upturned perfume bottles, hair pins littering the floor. It reminded her of the greenroom in Forbidden Fantasy and she felt a brief twinge of nostalgia cleaning up behind this new set of girls. She wiped at a smudge on her glasses, sneezing on power and folding the abandoned civilian clothes her friends had stripped themselves of in the frenzy to get ready.

'I am not a princess,' she said aloud, surprising herself with the need to repeat the sentiment. Her fingers were locked around a hairbrush in a death grip, eyes on the ground and an unconscious frown on her face. 'I'm just _not. _I'm the stepsister. The ugly stepsister and part time stage hand, the spotlight is not for me.' Sigh shook her head and gently set the brush down, catching her reflection in Liz's vanity mirror as she did so.

Her hair was a frizzy, angry mound on her head, already fighting the tie and springing into a life of its own.

Her lips were chapped and swollen from her habit of biting on them.

Her eyes were wide and timid, that awful shade of dirty grey made worse by clumpy eyelashes and her thick glasses.

She was so pathetically ugly it was a surprise anyone could stand to look at her.

Sigh bit her lip, eyes flickering to the dress before she could stop them. Her fingers twitched, slipper feet edging her closer. She rubbed the protective plastic between her fingers like it was a curiosity. 'I am _not _a princess,' she muttered.

_You're a queen._

The unspoken motto of Forbidden Fantasy was to flaunt what was available.

_Do you_ want _to go?_

And if one was a plain creature of little appeal, who was to say that that was not worth showing?

_Then_ go.

Sigh hummed through her nose, hoping she would not come to regret her decision as she pulled the dress to rest against her body. It was disconcerting how much her inner voice sounded just like Madame."

The narrator seemed out of sorts today, somehow pale beneath her dark skin and hollows under her eyes. Her loose shirt hung off her body like a curtain and her toes were curled in her sandals. The students from her class could tell she was tired from the way she had fallen asleep during their quizzes at an earlier time. When asked if there was problem she had simply claimed slight exhaustion and that they should all shut up and do their quizzes before she failed the whole class. Damn it.

The woman sighed, rubbing a blur on her glasses.

"Lord Death looked down at his son. The younger reaper was still, eerily so, as he gazed out across the ball stretching beneath them. Although the platform at the front of the room was barely higher than the floor, it was still large enough to survey the scene. To give speeches, as Lord Death had just finished (another one of his sentence-long ones. And of course Kid took it upon himself to elaborate) and for the other immortals to sense their place. Although they would possibly try to steal the show, the celebration was for the masters of death alone. For Lord Death and his only child to congratulate themselves on another year of relative peace. This was not the place for anyone else to make their move.

Lord Death sighed behind his mask. His silent son didn't seem to notice.

'Is she not coming?' Kid jerked as though caught doing something naughty. It made his father form an unseen smirk, possessing a childlike glee that resulted from surprising others. He watched him young son swallow, eyes wide before blinking twice as though with a twitch. He had grown into a very strapping young man and had chosen wisely for this ball. He wore a simple black tux with a red undershirt, his skull necktie gold instead of silver. Lord Death approved. It was understated, but graceful.

'I,' Kid glanced away as though in embarrassment. 'No, Father. She is not coming.' Lord Death made a little noise of confirmation. 'I see.' They stood in silence a moment longer. Watched Death Scythe become torn between chasing a beautiful immortal woman and stalking his daughter and her date. Patty's laughter cut through the air and Stein tossed back another flute of wine. Sid was not there. Lord Death had sent him on a rather serious mission, regarding the sudden silence of a certain friend. On that is normally very vocal. Almost offensively so.

'Did you think she was?' Kid gave a one-shouldered shrug, his eyes still averted. He slumped for a single moment before pulling back into the stature that was his birthright.

'I don't…' he had noticed the charges to his credit card. Had seen Sigh sneak into his manor with that garment bag and that shoebox. And he had wanted…he had _dared _to hope. His palms had grown clammy at the thought of her primped and polished, his heart had halted as he imagined burying his nose in the column of her neck, stealing her scent as he snatched dance after dance. Though even if she had come to the ball, he doubted he would have asked her to dance. He refused to corner himself in such a way, to become trapped by her.

It wasn't like this had been a date; he had no right to feel this way. This strange combination of disappointment and betrayal. His chest heavy and his muscles stiff. She hadn't wanted to go in the first place. It was no surprise that she had backed out now.

'I didn't think she would,' he finally answered his father. 'But I had hoped.' The last statement was little more than a whisper, one Lord Death would have missed if not for a fortunate and rhythmic dip in the music. The next moment it reached another forte and the young reaper's words were lost.

'Perhaps it is not a place for her?' Lord Death meant this as neither a confirmation nor a statement; it was a question, seeking what his son thought. What he had to come to _know _for this to move forward.

That same look of pained struggle appeared on Death the Kid's face before he sighed, forcing away some stubborn thought.

'Maybe not.'

She paced. She was on the last few steps. She could hear the music she was so close. _This_ close. And yet she hesitated.

Pace. Pace. Pace.

'I'm going in. I'm going in. I'm going _in._' She made it up two more steps before freezing, retreating one. 'I can't do this. Oh God. What the _Hell_ am I doing here? It's like putting diamonds on shit! It's like-' she shook her head. 'No. I got this. It's gonna be fine.' The sound of her own shoes hitting the steps frightened her. 'It'll be fine. I'll go in, snatch food, wave to Kid so he knows to give me my raise, and leave. No fear. No fear, Sigh. If you're afraid it'll get worse. People will molest you with their eyes.' She was on the threshold as she scolded herself. 'Stop talking to yourself. You're being weird again, Psyche.' She shook her head. 'You'll be fine. You're smart and awkward and charming and mean and this isn't making me feel any better! Just go in. Just go in!' She took a soothing breath, pulling on a hard smile and stepping forward.

The warmth of the party was a welcome change from the chilly desert night. The goose-bumps Sigh had collected retreated back into her body, the shaking that still wracked her was now completely contributed to nerves. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the assault on her vision, the ball a melee of auras and glittery finery. The groupings of student auras were dotted with large intimidating ones, looping and groping and possibly breaching some sort of aura etiquette. The music was fast and hopping, several couples bouncing about each other on the tiled dance floor and a few more gathering courage on the edges of the floor. The air was heavy with the smell of perfume and catering, the low din of voices crawling beneath the high call of the band.

There, standing nearly to the side, stood Lord Death. Her eyes had to search to find Death the Kid, hidden deep within the crowd, making conversation with his friends. Neither reapers seemed to have noticed Sigh yet, her soul disguised by the coagulation of so many in one place. She quickly ducked in a neutral direction, avoiding both immortals. Her growling stomach steered her to the buffet though one eye stayed pinned on Kid. She would still allow him to see her at some point to prove she had come. Just not now. She had to bolster herself first. Preferably with hoity toity snacks.

Sigh loaded a plate, popping a shrimp into her mouth and stealing several fancy cheeses. She swiped a glass of water from a passing server and casually side stepped. She thought she had seen Kid's gaze wander near her location.

She didn't know why she couldn't bear for him to see her just yet, why she felt she had to secure herself in her confidence before braving his eyes on her body. Maybe she knew it would take one look from his steady gaze to make her crumble. To make this preciously fragile bubble of anonymity (no one stared as she entered, no one had approached her in a stupor!) pop as soon as she allowed fear and uncertainty to creep back in. Maybe-

'Graceful Creature, surely my life was blessed by the moment you chose to enter my world.' Sigh jumped, squeaking as a voice spoke just over her shoulder. She whipped around.

He was a very handsome young man, with a large aura the color of bubblegum and big blue eyes. His hair was a coppery gold, his skin a healthy olive with full lips. His white suit with red piping hugging him in a sinful way. His demeanor boasted arrogance and charisma, as though he believed he could have any woman in the room. Sigh was startled such a person was speaking to her, immortal as he was, but felt her mind begin to grow inexplicably muggy as she looked at him.

'Oh lovely woman,' he continued purring. Sigh didn't resist as he reached for her face, rubbed a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth and lifting it to his lips. his other hand gently tugged the plate from her grasp, setting it on the buffet table. Why couldn't she move? 'How you must have fallen far to come from your native home of the heavens. Such poetry is your every movement, such art is your body, such music must be your voice.' He leaned in close and she told her body to flinch away. It refused her command. Her eyes dilated, only partially aware of the interaction of their auras. His seemed to be latching onto her own possessively. Had it claws it would be ripping into her, digging deep and burying its roots. She didn't like this. She had to break free.

'Tell me, Lover,' he whispered onto her lips, faces inches apart. She wanted him to kiss her.

No, no. She didn't!

_Kiss me._

'What is your name?' He was everywhere and everything. He was sucking her in with no real effort, no real thoughts to her as a person. She could see, just for a brief moment, how ugly this beautiful young man truly was just before his face snapped back to his unjust beauty.

'Psyche,' she bit back, struggled.

_Help me. Someone. I'm drowning._

'Psyche?' He chuckled. Their chests were touching so she felt it in her body. 'A delicious name. May I have a taste?' All she could do was whimper angrily, frightened at her own helplessness as he pulled closer. Their lips brushed.

_Yes..._

_NO!_

'There you are!' Sigh was snapped back to reality, throwing her assaulter's hands from her body in disgust. Her rescuer stood beside her, smile on his unknown face as he looked at the dangerous young man. 'I've been looking for you! Where did you get off to, young lady?' This man was very, very blonde. His hair and curly beard were almost white, his eyes the color of Caribbean Sea. He seemed younger than his thick beard and light voice suggested and his aura was a soft baby blue. Sigh trusted him immediately. Because she could control such a thing once more.

The pretty boy who had held her before still had a smile on his face, but it had turned venomous. 'Ah, _your_ date then?' his voice was no less sweet, but had a bitter edge to it. The man beside Sigh chuckled. The arm around her shoulders was one of chaste amity, like she had seen Black Star do to Soul. 'Hardly. I was merely asked to keep an eye out for her. Now if you'll excuse us.' He steered Sigh away. The young woman dared to glance over her shoulder, eying her attacker. He was watched them walk away, fingers tracing his lips. He smiled nastily when he caught her eye and she whipped her head back around.

'Are you alright? Would you like something to drink?' Sigh shook her head numbly as the kind man gently pushed her into a chair on the edge of the room. 'No. Thank you.' She blinked, still trying to get her bearings. 'And that you for what you did back there..' The man shrugged, easing into the chair beside her. Sigh could see from the size of his aura that he was also an immortal but he didn't seem quite the same. Not quite as…untouchable. 'It's alright sweetheart. A girl like you should know better than to get looped in by immortals. Didn't Death send out a pamphlet warning you about this ball?'

Two things. No, she hadn't received a pamphlet. And he had called Lord Death simply by his name. No honorifics.

'Were you really told to keep an eye out for me?' He could hear the weariness in Sigh's voice; his blue eyes examined her carefully. "No. Not really. Would it be bad if I had?' She shook her head. 'No! I mean, it's fine. I just...never mind.' She bit her lip, reminded she wasn't supposed to at the taste of her lipstick. 'Wow. There are a lot of immortals here, huh?' She changed the subject eagerly. The man allowed her to, nodding solemnly.

'The best defense,' the man said by way of explanation. 'Is avoidance. It's best to learn to identify them in order to avoid them.' He didn't know Sigh could see them for what they really were. He pointed to the young man that had almost captured her. He was speaking with Eris now, voices pointedly friendly and gentile. 'That's Cupid. His mother is the mistress of Love and he has the power of infatuation. Be careful not to be taken in by him again. Not sure anyone else would know to help you. Or would care to.'

He moved his hand, pointing to a young man in a shimmering black suit. Sigh blinked and he was old, incredibly so, older than she had ever seen. She blinked once more and he was young again, no older than a preteen. 'Father Time. Ornery old man. Avoid him too.' He extended his other arm, referring to several more characters lurking about the room. 'Pan, Freya, Hercules, Hestia, Hephaestus. Each are nice enough. But they have their vices, same as any other creature that has ever lived.' Sigh nodded, eager for the man to teach her. Though she could she them as immortals, it was impossible for her to determine just what their particular field of specialty was. And there was a broad range present at the ball.

'Why are they all here?' She asked in amazement as the man took a breath. He shrugged but once again looked at her carefully. She wondered what he was looking her. Sincerity? She was very sincere in her questions! 'Why, to catch a glimpse of something amazing, of course.'

'I would think they had seen everything by now.'

'Most things,' he lamented, almost sadly. 'And that is why they are desperate for entertainment. Even the cruel kind. They are here with the hopes of stealing something very precious to Death.' Sigh paled. 'They're not…they're not after the _school, _are they?' He looked at her in disbelief before laughing heartily. She smiled a bit, uncertain, but his laugh was nice. The sound of wind through a forest. 'No, my dear, they are not. It is something far more precious than that.' He stood. 'Well, I must bid you adieu. I hope to spy on my son a bit more before retiring for the evening.'

To Sigh's surprise, he pointed to her group of friends, particularly a young man she had never seen before. He had a dreamy look on his face, his hair the same wispy blonde as his father's and his eyes cloud white. He stood, or rather, floated, just behind Patty, and seemed quite taken with the busty blonde.

Sigh turned back to her companion, realization dawning. 'And who are you?' He smiled and Sigh was reminded of a well-timed breeze on a hot day. 'North Wind. And you, precious thing, may call me North.' And he was gone.

Sigh stood. She wondered if she should dare to venture back to the buffet or if it was simply time to call it a night. She had almost gotten into trouble with one immortal. Dare she tempt fate with a roomful? She thought not. It was time to take her leave. Besides, Kid's eyes had lit upon her mere moments previous, perhaps sensing the fact North had pointed in his general direction. Sigh waved and stood, turning towards the door.

Perhaps she would have made a grand escape had a sudden burning not appeared on her neck. She turned, cautiously, very aware she was not going to get away and regretting not leaving sooner. She shivered a bit, a tingling sensation on her spine as her heels planted themselves on the floor.

Kid was furious.

No, Kid was _livid._

How dare she show up late?

How dare she avoid him?

How dare she look so casually, innocently, breathtaking?

He had not seen her dress until this night, hadn't dared to ask lest he startle her away like some rare bird. But now…if only he'd known to prepare for _this._

It was a simple enough dress he supposed, simply cut and made of a grey so intricate it was almost blue. The perfect color to set off the spectrum of silvers and azures in her eyes. It was long with straps that wrapped about her neck. It cut almost dangerously deep in the front and he had been granted a glimpse of smooth caramel skin when she had had her back to him. The dress had no back to it, simply.

On someone skinnier, less curvy, perhaps it would have been harmless enough, this dress. Perhaps worn by someone whose lips weren't parted in surprise at his approach and whose hips didn't fill out the dress in an awful way that made him struggle to look her in the eye. Someone who had not chosen to wear her thick over her shoulder, held by a clasp the same color as her dress.

He struggled to speak, finding his mouth too dry for such a thing at the moment. It was bitter irony that hardly hours before he had wished for her to appear in a dress like this one. But not quite as dangerous.

It was a miracle no daring immortal had picked her up yet.

Had anyone tried?

He found himself getting angry, an anger that served to snap him out of his stupor.

'I didn't think you were coming,' his voice sounded like a growl even to his own ears; he could understand why her eyes were so wide in confusion and concern.

She didn't know what she was doing to him.

Sigh took a breath, steeling herself. 'I wasn't gonna. But I did, so…'

His eyes were burning into her in what she automatically assumed was disapproval. She had chosen the daring cut to her dress on a whim, the whole process of searching for and buying a dress sending her into a state of serendipity. A part of her that she'd kept resting rose to the surface, one that believed in fairy tales and Santa Clause and pretty, shiny, dresses.

'…sorry I'm late.' Say something, she wanted to beg him, say something. He was just watching her with those dilated pupils, blown black drowning in irises of tourmaline and honey, his mouth gaping and his nostrils flared like he was trying to catch his breath. Even the way he approached her seemed to be out of character. His usual bounding gait had been exchanged for the intimidating pace of a predator. Each step precise, silent, rolling from his heel to the ball of his foot.

'Yes, well,' Kid forced nonchalance into his voice, closing his mouth when he noticed Sigh's gaze flickering to it. There was an underlying fear in her face and though he had no intention of scaring her, he couldn't help but enjoy the feeling. Because under that uncertainty there was a twinge of nervous excitement in her eyes. And he fed upon that glimmer. Because the world was too loud as he looked at her, too bright, when all he wanted was to focus on her. Only her.

'Better late than never I suppose.' Sigh snorted but she was aiming her gaze over his shoulder. Kid wondered if the insane heat frying his gut was oozing from his eyes. 'Could you be any more fortune cookie than that?' Kid's smirk curled upon his face like a candied ribbon, his eyes hooded and his hands folded tightly behind his back. A mischievous child desperately trying not to touch something shiny. 'Of course. "Boldness, without the rules of propriety, becomes insubordination."'

'Confucius?' Sigh shifted in her heeled sandals, as though embarrassed she knew where that quote had come from. 'I don't see how that applies to me,' she breathed through a scoff. Kid's smirk became a smile one could perceive as bleak. 'I wasn't referring to you.' Sigh nodded although she had no idea what he was talking about. Her eyes flickered to the side, body following in time to catch orange eyes with square pupils observing their interaction. Pan. And Eris and Cupid and all four wind brothers. Father Time and the three sisters of Fate (Grace had come although she claimed to be having a terrible time). Perhaps every immortal was watching this moment. Not too obviously, as is not their way, but subtly. They laughed and mingled and danced but their whole attention was focused on Death's child. And, although she wasn't quite aware of it, the wiccan with whom he spoke.

'Dance with me,' Sigh fought down her jerk as Kid's voice appeared at her side, his breath on her neck. Her body was still turned to glare about herself defensively and she had not noticed the young reaper until he was quite literally right behind her. His hands hovered at her hips, not quite touching but close enough for her to feel his strange warmth through the thin fabric of her dress. Cold heat that went with the living being that personified death.

'Wh-what?' Sigh couldn't get her voice above a whisper, especially when she turned to see how close his face was to hers. His aura was crackling on her skin, like static electricity. His voice was steady but he seemed just as uncertain as she was.

'They're watching us. Dance with me, so they'll know.'

'So they'll know what?' The creamy candies of his eyes hardened into rough gold before smoothing over once again. 'They'll know you're off limits. That I'll protect you.' His hand was wrapped about hers without awaiting an answer, dwarfing her smaller digits as he dragged her to the dance floor. 'I don't need…Kid, I don't _need-_'

'I know,' he hummed as he settled one hand on her hip and the other entwined with her fingers. 'I will, though.' He blinked, smiling gently and beginning to sway slowly. 'I want to. Uh, because we're friends.' The latter was said very quickly in comparison to the casual intimacy of the former. It was like he suddenly remembered himself, the hand stiffening on Sigh's hip. Space was reintroduced between their bodies, the first time Sigh had noticed how close they had been. 'Tell me you know how to dance,' he joked easily, although Sigh suddenly felt lost. She forced herself to smile. 'You name it, I can do it. Fox trot, waltz, cha cha, mambo, rumba, ballet, jazz, and salsa.' Sigh shrugged and smiled up at his face. 'I'm from Vegas. The land of the ongoing party. Dancing is sort of a must-know.'

Kid chuckled in his chest. The combination of Sigh's voice and the touch of her body had stabilized him. He could look at her face without wanting to…_needing _to…

'I had to ask,' he clucked teasingly. 'I like to dance fast and you'll need to keep up.' To accent his point they began to spin faster. 'I should be saying that,' Sigh challenged. 'You got nothing on me when it comes to dancing. I'll bet the bonus you owe me that you trip before I do.' Kid's eyes flashed at the competition. 'Your eagerness to gamble and your love of money proves the fact you come from Vegas,' he teased.

'Just saying I could out-dance you blindfolded.'

'Fine.' He snatched the glasses from her face before Sigh could stop him, shoving them into a pocket within his coat. She made a noise of discontent, jerking in his arms. He clamped down, smiling wickedly. 'There. You're blind.'

'I didn't _mean-_' The band picked up a new tune so fast and flurried Sigh wondered if this whole thing had been premeditated. Kid easily picked up the faster pace, still smiling into her face like his victory was assured. It wasn't the money –heaven only knew he could certainly afford her bonus- it was the bragging rights. He wanted to be able to smirk and tease her about this later. And Sigh knew this. And refused to grant him the luxury. Psyche Eclair took her bets VERY seriously. She was careful only to make them when she had a significant chance of walking away victorious, of crumbling her opponents to dust. She had spoken carelessly this time but like Hell she was going to admit that to anyone. So, lifting her chin and gritting her teeth, she danced with death.

Kid was very fast. Sigh would give him that. It was difficult to get the proper swing of the music when he was practically sprinting through the whole song. She hoped her skill would tide her over, even with her blurry vision and the fact she was certain he was purposefully trying to entangle their legs.

'You're cheating!'

'Stop scowling. It makes you look ill-tempered.'

'Well I can't see a goddamn thing!'

'Sigh,' he huffed like she was being terribly difficult, slowing a bit. 'You _know _I'm here. You feel me. You know the ground is under your feet and you hear the music. If "sight" means that much to you, even with all that information you have, just focus on my face. You know what I look like so you shouldn't have to see me to _see _me.'

'Whatever.' Although she felt the muscles in her face start to relax. She could see his face in her mind's eye, the firm set of his jaw as he scolded her gently. Lips that were the only color aside from his eyes, a light powder pink, tendrils of black hair brushing his neck and sloping brows drawn into a habitual frown on his forehead. Stupid, handsome, frowny boy. Regardless of being the son of death and over one hundred years old, he still had a lot of growing up to do.

Sigh smiled unconsciously, an upturn of her lips that made her face glow. Kid loved watching her soul hum through the portals of her eyes, his vision uninhibited now that her glasses were out of the way. She was keeping up with him now, spinning when she was forced to and swaying with the rhythm. He kept his eyes focused on her face, absorbing as much as he could whilst as close as he would ever get.

No. He remembered a day not so long ago when he'd gotten closer. Shamed, he had to force his heart to slow.

'Kid.' And the way she felt in his hands. So warm. So solid. So alive. It should be criminal for a grim reaper to dance with someone like that.

'Kid.' But it really wasn't fair. Was this a test? Was she some demon summoned to tempt his will?

'Kid, the music stopped.' That anger returned again, anger at the injustice of it all, dampened by despair that knew no logic.

'You can let go of me now.' He was shocked back to that moment, right then, as she stirred in his arms with a worried look on her face. He could only imagine what he must have looked like.

'Yes. Right,' he laughed uneasily. 'It looks like you'll be keeping your bonus after all, Sigh.'

'Right.' She still looked mildly concerned. They had begun to disengage from each other, only connected by their hands now. To his surprise, her free hand lifted itself, hesitating before finding his face. Her fingers pressed themselves to his forehead gently, rubbing at what must have been such a fearsome wrinkle she could see it in her blinded state. 'Are you alright, Kid?' He forced himself to smile, his hand coming up to meet hers and pull it from his face. 'I'm fine, Psyche.' Her doubt was visible.

'You're sure?'

_No_, he wanted to whisper, wanted to pull her close and bury himself in her soul. _You're tearing me apart._

He shook his head. 'I'm _fine_. Perhaps I've just been here too long.' Sigh smirked, still watching his face. 'I heard you're supposed to party all night on your birthday. Especially a big one like one-oh-five. Or are you getting old?' He smiled half-heartedly at her jab, anything to prolong her hands in his. So _warm. _

'Sigh-'

'I'm very sorry to interrupt. But if I could have a word with you, Miss Sigh.' The seriousness in Lord Death's voice warranted no room for argument."

The storyteller opened and shut her mouth, spell broken as she struggled with what to say next. It was like she couldn't quite get the words out and after a moment of confusion, she simply skipped a scene.

"She was walking so fast it was almost a run, tripping over herself as she struggled to move even faster. Madame, Madame, Madame. How could…how did…the old harpy was supposed to be invincible! This day was never supposed to come. Sigh bit her lips against the bitter taste in her mouth, refusing to respond to Kid's calls as he followed her down the abandoned halls of Shibusen, escaping the Death Room. She didn't want him to see her like this. Didn't want to see _him. _She just wanted to go home, just wanted to sit in her attic and feel knobby old fingers combing through her hair, an old voice humming an old song about birds and love.

'Sigh!' It must not have been hard for the young reaper to catch up with her. It wasn't like she could _run_ in those fucking shoes.

'It's going to be okay Sigh. We're going to figure this out.' Sigh looked up at him like he was insane. He didn't look winded from their jaunt but a certain wild panic was hidden behind the calm glaze over his eyes.

'I already have,' she shook her head. She would not cry in front of him. She would _not. _'I'm going back to Vegas.'

'Well, yes, but-'

'For good. I'm going home for good.' It was silent in the hall as he digested her words. 'Sigh, you don't have to-'

'Didn't you hear?' she challenged. 'Weren't you in the room when they told me…when they said…Madame…'

'Sigh, no-'

'Forbidden Fantasy needs someone to run it. A lot of those girls have no other income, no other safe place. They need it. They need me. And I should be there for Madame when she…if she doesn't wake up.' Sigh choked an empty laugh. "Coma's pretty serious, right?'

'Sigh-'

'NO!' She snatched her hand away, glaring at him with all the anger she could muster in this moment. 'Don't say my name! Don't say my name like you can fix this! Like you can fix any of it!' She crossed her arms, folding in. 'You had to know right? You had to _know_. I mean _look at me._ At what I _am._After everything you've learned about me you had to have known.' When she looked at him her eyes were misting. It made something in him die to see her this way.

'This couldn't last. Nothing…nothing good that happens to me _lasts._ My…family. My people. That old couple. I looked them up and I remember…I remember their faces and their voices but I don't remember…why I was there, what happened so I…' Sigh shook her head. 'Them and countless others. All those disasters I caused. Everything…I can have _nothing_.' The tears oozed out and she angrily wiped at them, smashing herself in the eye and smearing her eyeliner.

_Stop fucking crying you moron. _And of course her inner voice still sounded like Madame. Which only served to make the tears worse.

'This was so…this was so _amazing,' _she choked. 'I had built a neat little family, me and Madame. And here I had friends. Real friends, for the first time in my life. And it's ending, all at once. And I'll have nothing again. Nobody.' Kid's breath stuttered at this. 'I'll go with you,' he fought. 'We can do this together.' She smiled distantly, already separating herself from him. He didn't know agony like that in his chest could exist outside of the battlefield. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to hold her _so badly _but knew she would push him away. And just knowing that made the desire to comfort her increase.

'No, Kid, you can't. They need you here, in Death City, just like they need me at Forbidden Fantasy. Our homes do not mix. Las Vegas is a place of insanity. It's all lights and action and sin and chaos. There's nothing that's real there, it's all fake faces and smoke to lure in stupid people from out of town. But here. Death City. Death City is…order. Institution. Founded by a man who knows life better than any who have ever lived. Two people from those worlds cannot understand one another, at least not for long.'

'Don't say that,' he muttered. 'Don't say that, Psyche.'

'I'll leave first thing in the morning,' she spoke like she hadn't heard him. 'I can afford to send for my things, so I will. It's been fun, Kid. Tell the others I said that. I'll write, too.' He could hear the lie in her tone. Once she was gone, if he let her walk out of this school and into the night, he would never hear from her again. He could _feel_ it. Watching her tears fall, eyes grey and looking beyond him to a land he could never be a part of, he felt the abyss between them deepen.

She tried to turn from him to continue on her way but he wouldn't allow it. No. Not this time. He felt like he was being robbed of something he had searched for for a very long time. He hadn't known he needed it until it was in front of him and now that it was, he wasn't sure he had the strength to let it go.

Kid's hand lashed forward, grasping her about the arm. Sigh gasped in pain but he didn't loosen his grip, reeling her into his body and crushing them together. He just looked at her for a moment, their faces impossibly close and her eyes wide and feral. Sigh wrinkled her brow and pursed her lips. 'Stop it. Kid, stop it.' Kid's head moved forward of its own accord.

It was a surprisingly gentle motion. Kid had felt like they would collide painfully, slamming teeth and busting lips. That he would hurt her and promptly feel profound guilt for doing so. That she would fight him and beat him to a deserving bloody mess. But no.

Their lips came together easily, like they had been meant to do so from the start, locking in a way they never could when Sigh had been asleep. She was surprised at herself, surprised at him, as they molded together. Her mouth acted on its own accord, moving against his carefully and shyly. His hands drifted up to her face to wipe tears as a hum built in his throat, his breath gliding smoothly across her face. She gave a little hiccup as he pulled away only to kiss her again, harder, as though to confirm what had just occurred had not just been an incident. Her hands bunched in his jacket at the waist, one of his hands found its way into her hair, their mouths were partly open to pant and sigh against one another."

The narrator looked around. Many of the girls and women were blushing, dreamy looks on their faces, while the males in the audience looked less enchanted. Rolling her eyes, she continued.

"Sigh pulled away, trying to get the young reaper's attention, only for his lips to find hers again.

'Kid…' his lips silenced her, softly. He smelled like autumn leaves and chilly air. She pulled away again, gasping when his lips pressed under her ear.

'You have to…I have to…' silenced.

'Noooo.' This time she placed her fingers on his mouth, preventing another collision. He looked at her, gaze soft and heated but conscious. 'Sigh,' he hummed, and the sound of her name from him made her jerk and her face heat up, his breath causing her fingers to twitch against his lips. 'Stop,' she commanded, trying to twist away from him. 'You always make things more complicated than they need to be.'

'I know,' he answered, whispering and still holding her close. His lips brushed her ear as she turned her face from him, his arms about her waist as he forced her into a gentle embrace. 'I just needed…before you left I had to…you're so…I just…' She shook her head. 'No, Kid. Shut up. shut up, shut up. _No._' His hands, loosened at her waist, sliding up her body to clench on her upper arms. He was trying to make her look at him. She refused, gazing over his shoulder.

He couldn't tell if she had liked his advances or not. Sure, she had responded but was it simply because she didn't know what else to do? Had Kid committed to something he wanted no part of? Had he destroyed something important?

The uncertainty burned in him, mixing with the satisfaction and the hope in a way that threatened to make him ill.

'Psyche, _look at me_. Please, just look at me.' Sigh bit her lip and closed her eyes though she could feel his hard gaze on her face. Her throat was clenching, her eyes burning, her heart lurching like it wanted to escape her body and run to…him? 'I tried so long. You have to believe…I didn't want to ruin…_everything. _I didn't want to stop being your friend if we were to be-'

'Nothing. We were never going to be anything, Kid. It'll never be…that. It can never be anything like that.' She paused, trying to calm down. It wasn't working. Too much was happening at once. She wanted to run. That was all she could do, right? What she had always done. When her world crumbled, she ran from it, forgot about it, swept it under the rug. 'Psyche..._look at me!_' He shook her this time. She obeyed but barely. She was looking through him. 'Whatever you decide,' he whispered. 'It's all up to you. But it's _killing _me. This…whatever it is. It's _agony_.'

'I don't care. Can't you see that? Can't you see that _I don't care_? Cause you don't even know what I am. _Who _I am. What I've done. How can this be real when you don't know what you're doing?' Sigh demanded.

'I _do _know,' Kid snarled, eyes glowing angrily. 'I _know _you. I can see into your _soul_.And it's so _beautiful_ and strange and pained.I hate it. I want it and I _despise _it. I've never felt weaker or stronger in my whole life and I know that at the center of all this is _you_.'

'Let me go,' she insisted. 'You have to let me go. I have to go.' Sigh shook her head, angry with him for this, angry with herself for the tears bubbling in her eyes. 'I have to go to her. My _mother._' Kid's breath stilled, his nostrils flaring.

'I won't keep you from her. I'd never keep you from her. But I want you to understand everything before you go. I want you to know to come back, one day. Please just _come back._ You need to understand.'

'I could say the same. _Understand_,' she snarled wetly, finally succeeding in twisting away from Kid. His hands hovered in midair as though surprised she had left them. She crossed her arms, trying not to look like the wreck she knew she was. Psyche had to stay strong because she was all Madame had. And Madame was all she had. And she had been stupid and cruel, allowing herself to be sucked into what she now saw as a temporary world. Allowing herself to succumb to this strange place that dragged out the very aspects of her that were odd and mad and forced her to face them. How could she allow this to happen? How could she be so stupid? So silly? This dress, this day, this place. It all seemed so horribly inconsequential to her now. She was ashamed, naked to her shame.

And this…_boy _in front of her. With his glowing eyes of golden sin and his alabaster skin that was soft and flawless. Their collision had crumpled his suit and her wayward fingers had mussed his hair. Had she caused the swelling of his lips? How they had become pinker than she had ever seen? What about the tightening of his face, that little wrinkle between his eyes that she had tried to vanquish earlier? He only looked like that when completely and utterly confused. When lost. She knew this.

'Sigh…your _eyes…_'

Just as she knew he liked coffee. Not for the caffeine his reaper body rejected but for the tongue cringing taste. There was a music room in his manor and he could play _every single instrument _proficiently. Except the didgeridoo. He wore a gaze of shadowed affection when he looked upon babies and young children, so new to life. He was surprisingly partial to napping and could curl up anywhere to commit to one. He wasn't overly fond of sweets but had a weakness for black licorice and his mouth would curl, oh so finitely, when fighting down amusement.

He had a mole, low on the back of his neck. It was very pale so perhaps it was a freckle, and it was usually hidden by his collar or hair. Perhaps it was the only blemish on his perfect body and she had happened to catch it as she stared at his back one day, not so long before the ball, stared at this young man in a singular moment when she had allowed herself to think how handsome he was. How gentle. How intricate.

In that single second of weakness, she had fancied that perhaps her feelings towards her employer were not as chaste or platonic as she had been telling herself. Because at that moment she had wanted to press her lips to that mole-not-a-mole, to bury her nose in his hair, brush her mouth to the corner of his. These feelings she had stamped down upon immediately, as she had not allowed herself a crush since eighth grade. A handsome boy with wicked eyes and cruel words. What was the purpose of such useless infatuation? Pain? That was all she had received. So no, her insane attraction to her young employer would not be fed. She would not indulge it. It would disappear, like all good things eventually do.

Sigh could have lived like that for quite some time. She was quite good at biting her tongue and hiding her feelings. She could have walked away with no care but for her mother, no worry but whether or not the old woman still had the moxy to fight. But then _he_ had to go and make it hard. He had to touch her gently and kiss her in a way that she never thought she would be privy to. Like she was something precious and fragile. Like he had been waited so long just to have her close to him. And he did it so perfectly. So tenderly. She doubted it would ever be like that with anyone else.

Bastard. She wanted to believe in him.

But he was temporary too. Because really, honestly, she could not see their horrid flurry of heat and emotion becoming something other than some whim of his. Of hers. She was unstable at the moment. She recognized this in herself. And she imagined he was just confused, that he didn't want her to leave and was incorrectly translating that into something more than it was. This entire moment could disappear, for all she cared. She didn't want it.

She would not succumb to this. She could not.

'I'm sorry.' She smiled bleakly, shutting down. The look in his eyes. So hurt. So empty. He'd heal, she told herself, but she couldn't help but wonder just what she had done. 'I'm so sorry.' He reached for her as she turned away, fingers seeking contact. Confirmation that she was there, that she was with him. 'No.' He froze. 'Don't touch me. You have to…this isn't right, okay? I had fun so…'

'Sigh.' There was frustration and pain in his voice. But it didn't stop the plea that was also present. 'Just wait-'

'_Mimi ni hapa…'_

'Don't you dare!'

'_Kuja kwangu!'_

'Psyche!' Kid's hand came back full of an incandescent posy petals. They fell through his fingers and shattered into nothingness on the floor.

Sigh had disappeared. Kid took two steps forward, stopped, and took one more. He knew where she had gone. And surely she would be there until the first train of the morning, true to her word. But he was frozen. Her rejection dug into him and his hand flew to his chest as though to still the pain. He told himself there was no physical injury there, that he was just being dramatic and he should _stop it, stop it now _as there was no reason for him to be suffering like this. His hand clenched a bit in frustration when the pain didn't disappear and he noted that he had something stowed away in his pocket.

He reached into his coat, dazed as he retrieved what she had forgotten. Her glasses looked up at him accusingly, the thick lenses reflecting a wide-eyed boy with a look of stifled desperation about him.

He could still see her eyes. Not the grey irises with the little blue sapphires within. No, he saw her eyes as they were now. Their natural state, perhaps. A whirl of greys and blues, fog and mist, mixing with the magic deep within her. He saw her as she was and found it to be just as beautiful as everything she had ever been. The feeling of loss returned to him.

Clutching the shards of his broken heart close, the reaper grit his teeth.

'Sigh…'"


	14. Chapter 14

**BB says: **Gonna be honest guys; this is a transition chapter. Not much action here.

**Rating: **Teen.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing! None the things! Not _Soul Eater _and not the works of Edgar Allen Poe!

"The stairs almost killed him. Honestly, he couldn't understand how children were able to bound up them every day with no issue whatsoever; even as he huffed and puffed his way forward several sprinted past him, looking at the visitor curiously. He was strangely ashamed, although surely his reaction to such a strenuous activity was normal for a normal person. He wasn't one to keep in shape, to run miles and hunt demons and whatever else the students of this prestigious school were expected to do. He was a nurse, a scholar; his free time was spent in libraries and medical offices, not swinging weapons. He was certain that that would be breaking a part of his Hippocratic oath.

'Well _hello _Mr. Ford!' Lord Death gushed as Otto finally made it to what was called the Death Room. The reaper wore a goofy mask that, if not for whose face it laid upon, would have been comical. Otto glanced about a bit as he slowly entered Death's domain. Ox's letters hadn't been lying; the room was some sort of phenomena. It was like the actual sky was above them and the ground below, blackened figures strewn across the room were oddly solemn in the sunny presence of the room. It was somewhat unnerving.

'Hello, Lord, er, Death,' Otto started awkwardly, wiping the sweat from his brow. His spiked brown hair was damp and falling into his eyes. 'Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.'

'No problem, none at all!' The reaper chirped. 'Your little brother is one of my best students! And you do have something quite important to share, don't you? At least Ox made it sound that way!' Otto cleared his throat. 'Yes. I promise to make this worth your time.'

'I'm sure you will.' It was possible to hear the smile in Lord Death's voice. Otto smiled back.

'I'm in training to become a nurse,' he began slowly, like he was feeling his way with his words. 'And a few months ago I was interning at an old folk's village. It was a pretty prestigious gig. I mean, I was just a second semester freshman at med school and already…I was really proud, you know? And super psyched to be able to help people. That's the whole reason I want to become a nurse, to help people on a personal level doctors don't always have the time for. So I dedicated myself to focusing on the patients that no one else wanted, no one else dared to approach socially. The ones that were too far gone or on the way out.' He sighed. 'That's how I met Mr. Xavier. He was one of the older patrons. He's been there for...gosh, I don't know. Even orderlies who'd been there for over a decade couldn't remember when he'd arrived. And by the time I got there he was already disappearing. I held his hand as he died.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

'Thank you. But…it was his time to go, I guess. He had lived a very long time and was able to do things off a bucket list that must have been miles long. In those rare lucid moments he had, he would sometimes tell me stories. Stuff about mystic trees and magical adventures, necklaces and enchanted children. The story was somewhat...wild. And unbelievable. I didn't quite understand all that he said. His brain was garbled at the end but I guess on some level he must have been aware of my support. And I guess he took that as... friendship?' Otto laughed sadly. 'I feel bad, now that I look back on it. I must've been the closest thing he had to family at the end. No one ever came to see him and he never got any calls. He wound up bequeathed his research to the last person on earth who talked to him, who tried to listen.' Otto shrugged awkwardly. 'Me. So I came to possess heaps and heaps of notes and maps and odds and ends that didn't look like anything I had ever seen before. I thought it was all just junk. I mean, he seemed like he was an interesting old guy but I resented the fact he had treated me like some sort of recycling bin…' the young man had the decency to look sheepish.

'I couldn't understand his actions. I posted some of his stuff online, hoping to sell it, only to find a lot of it was worthless. So I thought to throw it away, and I was going to, too, before I actually started reading his journals. My curiosity made me open them. Like I just had to know…I just had to know if there was any validity to the stories he had told me.' Otto shrugged. 'I then noticed that his journals and his maps coincided, as did his collection of news stories he gathered from around the world. Talking about freak disasters. He told me, before they died, that all those phenomena had to do with one child, a little girl he had traveled with many years ago.'

Lord Death was silent and his visitor took that as a cue to continue. He held up a thick manuscript he'd brought with him. The pages were yellowing and bits of paper were sticking out from within its folds. The leather that made up the cover was cracked and dry, the color of ancient ash.

'So I thought "hey, why not piece it all together? Maybe it'll be fun. I need a hobby." It was like a broad, 3-D puzzle. The kind Ox and I like. The more I looked into it, the more I wanted to know. Mr. Xavier had told me that the child he rescued protected him from a possessed necklace, something that could control people and turn them into monsters. He had several books on mythology and he bookmarked all sections relating these creatures called djinn.' Lord Death cocked his head to the side ponderously.

'Oh, of course. A djinn!' Otto blinked. 'You know what it is? I mean, of course you do, I just wasn't sure…'

Lord Death bounced on his shadows. 'Ah, yes. Immensely powerful magic users with the ability to bend the laws of nature to "grant wishes." Of course you never get what you're looking for. It always has a catch, one that usually involves the loss of your soul. Djinn traditionally live within common items that you may encounter on a day to day basis, making it easier to find, for lack of a better term, suckers to devour. Necklaces, pots, even kettles and lamps can be home to djinn in their spirit form. I recommend reading _A Thousand and One Nights _to really get the shake down on them. The story of Aladdin, particularly, is one of the more famous appearances of djinn in history. Disney was careful to delete the part where his soul was ripped from his body, leaving him as a rotting husk.' Lord Death chuckled darkly.

'But do continue.'

'R-right.' The young man swallowed. 'The girl had protected him from a djinn and from there he thought it in his best interest to keep her by his side. If for nothing else, protection from the necklace he was certain had cursed him. And what better protection than this magical, powerful child? Who would know more about the threat than the one who had been locked away with it?' Otto shook his head.

'In Mr. Xavier's journals he notes how she referred to their pursuer as Djinn. Like a name instead of a species. That Djinn was hunting her, Djinn had committed awful deeds that, while she couldn't remember them, she could remember how they made her feel.' The young man allowed a look of empathetic woe pass over his face. 'It must have been Hell for her, with everything so blurry and confusing. Especially when the very thing that was so evil, so _awful _was her father.' Lord Death raised an unseen brow, attention peaked. 'Really? Her father? How do you know?'

Otto blinked. 'Well, she only mentions it once in the entire journal so it may have been a slip of the tongue. It may have been one of the hiccups of memory she had from time to time, or maybe they ran into something that reminded her…in any case, she referred to Djinn as "BaBa". That means "Father", right?'

The child of a djinn and a wiccan? No wonder Sigh was such a tormented soul.

'Her magic was strange and dangerous, perhaps attributed to her heritage as djinn spawn. There're pages and pages of occasions where she used magic to save them. Few occasions when she was actually a child…frightened of her own power…afraid of the dark… trusting of strangers…if possible, it seems like she didn't mature as she traveled. She grew more juvenile. It was degeneration not unlike what I saw in the retirement village, in those with dementia or Alzheimer's. The end pages of the journal note that she seemed to have become an average child, suddenly ignorant of her abilities and wiped of her memories. She was no longer of any use to him; she had become a hindrance. It is at this point that he gives her to someone.' A dark cloud drifted over Otto's face.

'He told me he had lost her. He said it like she had just vanished into thin air and he was the victim in having been abandoned. But it seems he was no hero.'

The young nurse dug around in the bag he'd brought with him, finally fishing out a circle of old looking metal. It was tarnished and dull, but it was possible to see the trinket had at one time been a very handsome piece of silver. Upon its face was the worn down engraving of a large tree, its branches scraping the top of the coin and is roots scratching the bottom. Lord Death narrowed his eyes.

'Yggdrasill.' Otto nodded gravely. 'The world tree. It's the symbol for the cult he sold her to, some cult that worships Gaia of the earth. They…they're _crazy. _I can't believe...maybe they were different back then but now…to read the stories of their extremists nowadays…it's like some sort of horror story. You can't make this stuff up! Sacrifices and crazy rituals. Mass suicides and acts of terrorism.'

Lord Death was familiar with this cult. His students had stomped down many of their factions in the past century and he took pride in the fact that most if not all of their extremist encampments had been wiped from the earth. 'I can only imagine what they would put a kid like that through,' Otto continued. 'A kid with no one to look for her, no one to ask after her well-being, no one to say "stop that, that's wrong, she's just a kid!".'

Lord Death was frowning behind his mask now, trying to stifle his upset to keep his visitor from sensing it and growing afraid. He felt Death Scythe stiffen behind him, the man very much aware of his meister's mood.

Perhaps it hadn't been Sigh neglecting to use her magic.

Perhaps it hadn't just been a young wiccan coming into her own.

Perhaps all those disasters were a defense mechanism. Something to escape her captors, her tormentors. Something to make the pain _go away._

'The reason I'm here,' Otto said slowly. For all of Lord Death's efforts it seemed the young man could still sense the sudden tension in the air. 'Is that I spoke to the private detective hired to find her. He said she wound up here and I didn't know…I mean I had to tell _somebody. _I had no idea if she was dangerous o-or if this djinn was still chasing her. Maybe I could talk to her. I just thought-'

'It was right of you to come and see me, Mr. Ford,' Lord Death interrupted, forcing his mood to brighten. 'I do so like being aware of all the happenings in my city. But I'm afraid the young wiccan doesn't live here anymore. And no, I do not believe I'll tell you where she got off to. This is a matter for Shibusen now; you understand if I have to keep you in the dark.' Disappointment flashed across Otto's face. 'But-'

'Perhaps, when it is all over,' Lord Death spoke over him again. 'I can let slip a bit of information. You've put so much work into this it would be unfair to simply dismiss you. But this is dangerous business and you're not trained to handle it. I'm actually very impressed with your progress up to this point. The Ford brain, I assume?' Lord Death's question was rhetorical. 'Off you go! Go see Ox; I'm sure he'll be glad to see you. And thank you again for all your help. I hope we'll meet again. But not too soon, right?' Lord Death winked. It was heard in his voice. Otto hesitated, his mouth still open before shutting with a snap. He nodded and bowed. 'Please let me know how it works out,' he muttered. 'And thank you for your time.'

'No problem. And if you have any more concerns, don't hesitate to come see me!' Lord Death nodded and waved, watching his visitor leave.

'A bit cold, don't you think?' Death Scythe sighed. 'I mean it's obvious the kid was hoping to find out more.'

'He knows enough if not too much,' Lord Death sang. 'Dangerous business you know. Cults and witches and djinns and the like. I would hate for him to get hurt from his involvement.'

'Oh, I see!' Death Scythe rubbed his chin. 'You were protecting him. It's not like he's one of the students. He's not prepared for this sort of thing. No training, no mission briefing. It looked like just walking up the stairs wiped him. There's no way he could get too far into this thing without ending up dead. Pretty awesome of you, Sir, protecting him like that.' Lord Death nodded. 'There is no occasion when I am _not _awesome, Spirit.' The Death Scythe chuckled and nodded, Lord Death surrendering a part of his consciousness to a forgotten memory that had been stirred at the mention of djinn. A detail regarding Sigh's magic, something his son had mentioned once, a look of fascination and poorly concealed pride in the young reaper's eyes as he spoke of the young woman. Lord Death regretted not paying more attention as his son was speaking, but at that moment he had thought to label the younger reaper's words as the mushed cooing of a man besot.

'_-unlike anything I've ever seen, Father.'_

'_Really now?'_

'_Truly. The words to her spells are so lengthy….so strange. __Mimi ni hapa. Kuja kwangu. Almost like it's not a spell at all….'_

'It's not a spell,' Lord Death spoke in startled realization, just under his breath. 'It's not a spell at all.'

'Sir?' Confusion on Death Scythe's face didn't faze the reaper; he hardly had time to explain.

'It's not a spell. It's a _wish.'"_

A member of the audience sneezed thrice in succession. The narrator took a moment to excuse them and their suddenly mucus covered face. When they had returned, she started up again.

"'I don't think we can be friends anymore,' a young woman said drowsily, manicured hand running through highlighted hair. She was pouting in a horrible way with tears gathering in her dim eyes and her body hunched like it was wounded. Blood speckled her expensive looking clothes and gathered in her sandals. The crowbar was still grasped in her hand, fingers frozen like she feared it would escape her. She slammed her back against the side of a brick building, sliding down to sit on her bottom.

'You never listen to me. I didn't want to kill him; it was just easy. I was just pointing out that it was _easy.' _The necklace that lay beneath her shirt hummed with a life of its own, so much more powerful than when she had first found it. The girl was a fool; but she was useful. Its last host had been pathetically weak, the rot beginning hardly a month into possession. But this girl had a noticeably longer shelf life. Three months and she still held her form. There was hope yet.

_You had to protect yourself_. It hummed. _From his deceitful intentions. And his soul was so delicious._

'But…and then…my parents…' she sighed. Her mouth was dry. 'I had to kill them for my inheritance. For the money they owed me. It was mine, anyway. I couldn't wait any longer…right?'

_Of course. Do you not recall how soft and sweet their souls were? If it was wrong, why were they not bitter? Burning?_

A shaking hand found her face, smearing blood across it as she watched the cooling corpse farther along in the alley. The crowbar gave off a dark miasma, reeking of black magic and evil. It dissipated, reabsorbed by her locket like every other tool she had used. There was never any evidence left behind, only cooling corpses and the stench of potent darkness. She would have to leave soon, get cleaned up. Couldn't have people asking unnecessary questions. Her neighbors were already suspicious of her parents'…disappearance.

'But not _her,' _the young woman whined after a while. 'I didn't want you to hurt _her. _I just want to kill her daughter. That's it. She_…Madame…_she was good to me.'

_She would have stood in our way, _Djinn comforted. Had it shoulders it would have shrugged. _And I didn't kill her._

'Because I stopped you,' she pointed out. 'I stopped you.' Djinn merely chuckled.

_Of course you're right, Love. You're always right. We're so close, _he purred _you're so perfect. We're so close._

'I don't want to be your friend anymore,' she repeated as though for the first time. Had she said that already? She couldn't quite recall now, as she grasped her necklace, embracing the heat that radiated from it freely. It burned her, formed callouses on her chest and hands. But she didn't feel the pain. She hardly felt anything anymore.

_It's almost over _it purred _soon, my lovely._

A name repeated in her head, over and over and over. She didn't the person it belonged to, didn't know why she should feel the hatred etched into her soul as she clung to her only companion.

_Rehema._

_Rehema._

_Rehema."_

The storyteller had, of all things, a dog with her. Or, more accurately, a puppy. She had told her audience she hadn't had time to take him home, that her husband had given the little dog to her that morning. Apparently it had followed him home in his travels.

That was the first time she had given any details about her husband. They now knew he worked at Shibusen.

Or the military. Don't they travel too?

Or just a wanderer in general?

Damn. Back to square one.

The little dog was coal black with red eyes. It seemed smarter than any dog the students had ever seen and the woman had seemingly named it Tar. It now slept on her lap, snuggled up in her oversized sweater that seemed be fitting snugger.

She played with the pup's ears as she continued speaking.

"It was a lovely night. The air was cold but heavy with the scent of cultivated wilderness and the crisp scent of life. Though he was the heir to death, the eventual end to all that is alive, Death the Kid could grow a mean garden. Lilies and gardenias, hyacinths and belladonnas and irises. And not just the flowing plants. He was also rather proud of his shrubberies and was cultivating a young apple tree amongst the stunted willows. This was all happening, to the surprise of his friends and weapons, in the arid climate of the Nevada desert. Death the Kid had created an impossible place in an impossible place; unbelievable. Noteworthy. An average day for Death the Kid and his love of well earned reward.

The wealth their family (or, rather, the wealth of Death) had acclimated over the years. The point is over emphasized but important enough to warrant repetition; Kid and his father were old. So old, in fact, that money meant almost nothing. The acquiring of it was simply too easy, especially when their home was full of priceless artifacts that were in fact simply heirlooms left over from Lord Death's youth. Not that Kid would ever dare to sell any of it –not that he would ever _want _to- but the fact remained that money came easy to the reapers. To most immortals, really. So long as one didn't drink it all away like Dionysus.

So some time after his eightieth birthday, when he was what some immortals would describe as a 'tween', Kid had woken up one day in his empty, lonely manor and wondered why things never changed. Why they stayed the same. Why his manor (so much larger than people realized. Larger on the inside than it appeared on the out, and that was saying quite a bit) didn't have more…_life _in it.

It had been rather difficult turning an entire courtyard into a walk-in garden. A foundation of cement covered by eight feet of the healthiest soil money could buy and a complex aquifer system that somehow recycled water like the yard was its own ecosystem. The workers had been privy to a tour of Death's home as they were led to their place of work, although none of them could accurately recall all that they had seen. They all agreed the manor had been large. That it had been grand and possessed an obvious black and white theme, their manager a strange man by the name of Hephaestus. But despite the fact they had spent over a month walking the halls and hefting their equipment they couldn't remember anything concrete. Before they knew it the job was over and their incredibly young employer was shutting the door behind them.

It hadn't been an easy path for Death the Kid to learn to plant. He had no idea how to begin a garden, much less such a large one. He knew there were seeds and water involved, and perhaps a bit of sunlight, but aside from that he was very much a novice. His first attempts were met with failure so absolute and devastating he'd had to take a break that lasted a year, during which he couldn't bear to gaze upon the barren patch of soil without bursting into tears. Ever the supportive parent, Lord Death had allowed Kid to continue his dramatics so long as it didn't interfere in his duties.

And it was greatly amusing.

When Kid finally returned to the long neglected project it was with new eyes and new resolve. He brought with him limited knowledge that was largely book based and a fatalist view dictating that another failure warranted its own sort of victory; surely he was the first reaper to try at such a thing, much less fail twice.

He hadn't known how much it meant to him until those first little buds appeared, green dots lining the black of healthy soil. Death the Kid had wept. Not the loud, obnoxious wail of a child craving attention or the sniveling mess that usually mark one of his fits. No, these tears were silent by nature, and only a precious few escaped before he regained control of himself.

Decades later, he sat with soil staining his casual white polo shirt and grass stains on the fabric of his black jeans, his fingers clenched around a pair of miniature shears that were surgically precise. The rose bush was large and deep, leaves emerald green and waxy with health. The blossoms were a precious white ivory, whiter even than Kid's skin, and large –_enormous-_ for their species. The young reaper was found here often in recent days, working in this place –_his _place- with a fervor that spoke of a man haunted. His gaze focused tightly and yet roaming a far land. His hands were intent and experienced whilst lacking the calm by which they usually worked.

Yes. Tonight Death the Kid was seeking a distraction.

From what, he couldn't yet say. All he knew was that he needed it, just as he needed to stop thinking of what it may have been like had Sigh ever stumbled upon his garden, if she had ever walked its pathways, if she had ever dared to breathe deep of one of the pockets in his soul.

In order to do that, of course, she would have had to know about it. Gallows manor is a place of strong magic and seals, a place where the mortal sense of space and time are mashed up and slapped about without care. Appearance was nothing but a legend there and the enter manor possesses a depth that is not well understood. There are default rooms of course, those that anyone can stumble upon, and then there are those that lie hidden beneath the surface.

The kitchen, the foyer, most of the bedrooms, and the library were a few chambers that any visitor could access without thought. Like the rooms of a normal home, one could simply wander in the front door and find their way into any of these set locations. But other places could only be found if one knew they are looking for them. A sudden door here, an appearing hall there, a window that was certainly new; they all blinked in silently and abruptly like they had never been unseen in the first place. Liz and Patty were only beginning to master the maze-like mansion while Sigh…ah, Sigh had never known quite what she had been getting into. Kid had explained the concept once or twice but she'd never really had ample chance…

The reaper pursed his lips, clipping a stray leaf with more force than necessary. He didn't need flood lights to work at night. Even if he didn't have the full moon's bloody smile to light the night he, like other reapers, had the ability to see in the dark. It was the reason he was able to so tenderly look after his garden whilst avoiding the annoying heat of the day. The light of his seldom used porch helped, of course, but it could never hope to light the entirety of his massive work …

She would have loved it here. Her toes splayed on his perfectly green grass, her hands running over the saplings and the older willows. Their growth was stunted by the limited resources and yet they still managed to provide a soft shade where his treacherous imagination pictured her lounging with one of her dearly held books. Her eyes would shimmer with mirth as he muddied his trousers and dirtied his hands, her eyebrows would quirk when he tried to teach her the proper way to treat his slice of paradise…

An aggressive flex of the hand had him accidentally removing a perfectly healthy blossom. In the prime of its life, it lay as a fragile victim in the soil…

She hadn't written as promised. Any letters that were written in Vegas could easily arrive in Death City within a week…

Maybe he should work on the strawberries next? They were Patty's favorites although he could never convince the pistol to help him care for the plants…

He had no right to be slighted, to be wounded by silence. A broken promise? People always did that. No one took vows and promises more seriously than grim reapers. He should have been ready for such a thing. Perhaps a truth had never been spoken from her lips …she was a _witch's relative _after all_…_

He had to stop this bitterness in his heart. She was his friend. Nothing more, but he could accept that. He could apologize for forcing himself on her, for wanting more than she could give. But he couldn't hate her. He never could…

Things at his manor hadn't been all that different with Sigh gone and he was surprised at his disappointment in being unable to scry change. Of course he and his weapons were expected to pick up behind themselves more often but that was no real challenge. When one battles demons on a daily basis chores are nothing to cower before. The cooking was left to Liz and Patty (although Kid could cook, he found the task obscenely boring. He often wandered off in the middle. This, of course, would result in whatever he was preparing to be burned beyond recognition when he inevitably forgot about it) and Kid would dust and occasionally risk the laundry and floors. Or… he _had _been assigned laundry until he accidently shrunk an entire load. And then his weapons begrudgingly exchanged washing the dinner dishes for the strangely challenging task of washing clothes.

There was no longer any music in his home. Well, there were the blaring hits-of-the-day Liz preferred and the surprisingly grungy rap Patty loved but there wasn't _music. _The flow had been disrupted. It was a small change with a heavy weight; like a pin prick of dark matter. It would take one a moment to recognize the feel of discord that was suddenly present but once seen it was hard to ignore. Their home had been fine _before_ the maid and it was only logical to assume they could carry on _after_ her. But the way she had left –abruptly, on jagged terms- seemed to have left a mark. One he couldn't get rid of, no matter how long or hard he worked.

Kid sighed and knocked the filth from his knees as he stood, joints popping at the release of pressure. He wasn't tired. He seemed to be exceptionally restless. He shook his head and chanced a look at his watch. It was nearly midnight. Perhaps he should forgo sleep altogether and study up on witch history? Try to learn something new although he had scoured their written existence and ways with the passion of a madman in the past. He had spent the last year of his life trying to figure a way a witch may be born different; not the occasional mutant with no talent in dangerous spells but those who were simply resistant to magic's sway. Perhaps he should try-

He was hit in the face to suddenly he nearly stumbled back, night-eyes narrowing as his pupils dilated. It was the sharp, rotten-sweet tang of old magic. Not a spell that was old and coming to life, but a spell cast by one as ancient as Death himself. A great old one.

'I know you're here.' He hissed, noting how unnaturally still the world had suddenly become. He could no longer hear the little scurry of desert rodents and reptiles, the occasional sound of human nightlife as it was carried by the wind. Or even the wind itself. It was as though he was suddenly caught in a bubble, severed from the world.

The hands on his watch were stuck at 22:59.

'And thus upon a midnight dreary as you ponder weak and weary, labor over such a chore and I shall tell thee "nevermore".' Kid swiveled his head so fast his neck cracked, eyes narrowing on a raven perched in the branches of his only maple tree.

The smell of old magic hit him once again and his muscles tensed. 'Witch!'

'No silly boy. _Medium_,' the raven responded, its voice disturbingly familiar and coils of smoke spiraling from its wings. The seals of the manor were hard at work. 'Knock upon your chamber door- only this and nothing more.' Kid didn't relax, wishing his weapons were at his side. They thought he was in bed –or chose to believe his lie- and had retired themselves after casting weary looks over their shoulders. Just as he thought he was hiding his upset from them, they thought they were hiding their concern from him. A terrible circle; the manor had been filled with awkward silences and pregnant pauses for days. So when it came down to this venture he had slipped out of his room silently without alerting his intentions to either Thompson. Surely he was safe in his own home. Right?

If the witch was _this _powerful when speaking through a medium, he would be in a tight spot should she choose to reveal herself.

'What do you want here? What could possess you to call upon death?' he demanded, narrowing his eyes and ignoring his unease. He was the heir to Death; Death does _not _cower in the face of a witch. The raven cackled in its master's voice. 'She fled like the wind, so ready to be rid of you and your ilk. It burns you, does it not? How beautifully your heart shatters! How fragile it is! How desperately you crave "Lenore" and yet I tell thee "nevermore"!'

'Answer me!' barked Kid, fear springing into his gut like a cold flame. She? Perhaps he was reading too closely into the witch's words, perhaps his mind had looped this into the path it had been walking before the appearance of his unwanted visitor. But something in him was suddenly so afraid he could hardly stand it; so uncertain he thought he would simply die if left ignorant.

'Who are you talking about?' he dared ask and yet knew the answer.

'Psyche Éclair! Psyche Éclair!' the bird squawked much in the way birds do. 'Lenore! Lenore!' Kid frowned deeply. 'What do you know of Sigh?'

The raven laughed. 'Nevermore.' Kid grit his teeth.

'What do you know?'

'Nothing. Never-nevermore.'

"What do you know of her? What have you done to her?'

'Nothing, never-nevermore.'

'Do not toy with me!'

'Fool, one such as myself cares not for the world of children like you. I have done nothing for or to the girl save for opening her eyes to her truer self. I merely amplified a magic that was already here. I gave assistance where I thought it to be necessary. It was an act of kindness, not of malice.' The raven settled its wings restlessly. 'Speaking of which, her "homecoming" is going swimmingly. Would you like me to tell you how she fairs? It was adorable, really, watching _her_ try and disguise her home from your ilk. Like she could as of yet devise anything powerful enough to trick your reaper perceptions. Hiding should you dare to come after her.' Beady black eyes focused on Kid and he bared his teeth.

'Sigh would never try to hide from me,' Kid growled. 'I'm her friend!'

'Her friend? You seek friendship alone? Do _try _to be honest.' Kid ignored the statement, daring a step closer to the medium's perch. 'What did you-'

'Nothing,' the witch clacked, 'I have done nothing. I told you that she is alive and well, simply longing for solitude. You should thank me for the good news.'

'Are you here to mock me?' Kid spat. 'At least have the decency to come in your own skin.'

'The girl is under my tender vigil now. You needn't worry any longer. I've come to _free_ you. I offer respite. Respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Let me tell you; "nevermore"!'

'Thing of evil!' Kid roared, eyes burning. 'Stay away from her!'

'Nevermore! Nevermore!' The dark bird lifted itself into the air, alighting on a higher perch. 'You are a shadow,' the witch's voice deadpanned, nearly piercing through with her game of juvenile passivity. 'You and your father, are shadows. We aided you in the war with the kishin with the understanding that things would be…different between our two species. As long as we cause no harm to silly little humans, you lessen your interference in our lives.' The raven cocked its head to the side. 'Tell me, has any harm come to any human by way of my interference? The girl is a being of magic; _my _territory. Has the world been threatened by a young magic user simply wishing to stew in her woe? Desolate, yet all undaunted?' Kid clenched his jaw.

'You're _poison,_' he spat. 'Sigh needs to know she's not alone, she needs to know there are people who-'

'_Love _her?' the raven squawked, cackle erupting at Kid's responding silence. 'You know _nothing, _Little Reaper. Pain builds character. It is the chaos that fuels life itself. Shadows like you cannot understand such a thing. You're empty, sad-faced clowns, juggling the souls of those you've deemed worthy of saving.' She sighed dismissively. 'I'll not null the spell the girl has cast, that which shields her from your eyes. And you, in your current state, have no hope of breaking it. A shame. Annoying as you are, I actually respect you, if only a little.' The bird clacked its beak together. 'Speaking to one such as myself so recklessly? You can _feel _what I am, you _know _you're no match for me, and still you speak thusly. Admirable. But blood is thicker than water. I take the woman you adore and I leave you simply; nevermore. My granddaughter is not for you. Or anyone else.'

'Granddaughter?' Kid's eyes widened in disbelief. 'That's impossible!'

'Why?' the raven asked coolly, soulless gaze on the reaper. 'Is it so strange that a witch have blood connections? A family that loves her? Or would that make us too _real _for reapers to face?' Kid frowned. 'If you're her family then you should care about her happiness. If you _loved_ her, you would. Honestly, my experiences with witches and their families have left me incredulous of their ability to love anything but themselves.'

'Fool child,' the air grew heavy as the witch's voice deepened menacingly, the air wavering with her wrath. Kid suddenly found it very difficult to breathe, the differences in their power seeming all the more apparent. Still, he stood with his head high, stubbornly glaring forward. And when it felt like his chest was about to cave in, he simply stopped breathing to prevent her from seeing his struggling lungs. It was too late to back out. Not that he had ever thought to.

'Any happiness you could offer, you and your ilk, is _fleeting_ compared to the world I could present her with. It all _shrivels_ in comparison to what she can become! _You _would hold her back! _You _would never truly accept her for what she is, what is her blood. _You_ and _yours_ see a shiny new toy in her, nothing but a pet to keep until she bores you! Parading her around like she's a trinket you've found; you think I haven't noticed? You'll never have her. She belongs to her fate now.' Kid forced air into his lungs, unwilling to remain silent lest she mistake it for submission.

'I _know _those who weave Fate. Personally. And I can say that if you cared about her,' Kid's voice was a rasp. 'If you cared about your alleged "granddaughter", you would _let me protect her._' A great cry ripped free of the raven's beak, the witch's response to Kid's demand. It was an unnatural, horrid sound filled with the screams of a thousand dying moments. A thousand instances of ardor and pain, of grief and rage. It seemed to shatter, if only briefly, all perceptions of space and time, running together seconds that should never meet, past and future and every lifetime collapsing all in one heartbeat.

It was over too soon. Not soon enough. Kid allowed himself to worry, just for an instant, that he might have died. What would happen to his weapons? Would they ever know what had happened to their meister and brother? Would they ever…

Vertigo gripped Kid as he pried his clenched fingers from about his bleeding ears. He couldn't remember having lifted his hands.

'Who,' he gasped, a bead of perspiration disappearing beneath his collar. He was trying to glare but was out of breath. 'Who are you?' The bird hovered in midair a moment, seeming to mull over his question. She looked right at him, taking in his pale demeanor as he wiped at the blood trailing down to his jaw. He was still on his feet. Admirable. That was why she had helped he and his father against the kishin. Aside from the fact that the demon had been a threat to her kind as surely as his, there was also something to be praised about the boy's bravery.

He had dared to come to her realm –weaponless, bold- to beg at her feet. He was the son of Death himself, the life-long bane to her people and the vanguard of Order. The boy's existence was repugnant to her after a lifetime of hunts and battles. He reeked of authority and arrogance, of a confident gait that she would have loved to rip apart by the seams. But he had surprised her. And as old as she was, surprises were a rare delicacy.

He had dismissed his pride to save his people; such a thing must have been akin to swallowing a boulder for a grim reaper. He had bowed to her with the respect she deserved, his voice strained with the effort to sound neither pleading nor demanding. His simple belief that she would not kill him on the spot the very reason she had not done so. His words had excited her in a way she hadn't felt in _centuries,_ had set her blood boiling in her veins like she was on fire. It was the catalyst to her wanderings even this far in the future. She was restless after the Kishin was dead, eager for the stimulation she had thought herself retired from.

Even now his courage touched her. Such a man he would be someday.

If he lived that long, of course.

'You,' she began solemnly, almost forlornly. 'You focus on her wiccan side, the side that encompasses the witch in her. But you fail to see her as a whole.' Kid frowned. 'I see Sigh more as a person than anything else. She is my friend _first_, nothing more.'

'No,' the raven sighed. 'She is wiccan and more. Every child has two parents.' Kid looked at the raven in concealed curiosity. The raven stared back impassively.

The bird squawked a final 'nevermore!' and burst into a magic flame."


	15. Chapter 15

**BB says: **Updates! Get'cher updates her'! *rings little bell*

**Rating: **Teen. Maybe older teen.

**Disclaimer:… **

"He roamed through his home late that night, his feet silent from years of practice. Shadows darker than the dark manor flanked his every movement and sent radical Rorschach shapes crawling along the walls. He didn't wear his cloak as he travelled and despite the late hour there was no fatigue to his movement; perhaps attributed to his nature. He was a reaper, after all, and Death at that. The mortal perception of rest was beneath him. Though his son still required sleep to function properly Lord Death was beyond that now, a blessing in disguise when one considered his massive workload. When he did return home at the end of long days it was usually to meditate deeply or to complete complicated immortal matters that simply could not be done with the constant interference of his human companions.

Of course he _could_ sleep if he wanted to. Although he no longer craved that form of rest, should he lie down and commit to the act he could certainly fall to the realm of his cousin, Hypnos. The cranky immortal would greet him begrudgingly, mumbling something or other about how he faded to obscurity when compared to his reaping relatives. And though Death himself was one of those very relatives that forced the younger immortal to the shadows he would nod and converse before venturing onto the plane of dreams.

The last time Death slept had been with his wife at his side, and it was the last time he had actually felt like he needed to rest. It was the night before Kid's birth, and Lord Death had lay in bed to drape his arm around his beloved and pull her close. His reaper senses made it impossible to ignore her impending end and all he had wanted was to sleep by her side _one more time._

He got his wish.

The lower corridors of the manor were not a place oft travelled by anyone aside from Death. And even he rarely came this deep. So deep electric lights were left behind and nothing lit his path but the eternal flames of ghost torches. So deep it was nearly possible to hear the distant echo of Brother Hades' damned.

These were the bowels of his home where he had hidden many things, things that he was only recently beginning to dig out and show his son. He had recently discovered how fickle life was, how time was on one's side much less than the imagination fancied, and he suddenly realized how few moments he had left with his son. How could he hope to leave all his knowledge to the younger reaper? Over 800 years of experience all to be shared in only the next decade or two. The task was taunting and indispensable.

_Death had died_.

It had only been for a few hours, he was told, right as his son had pushed himself just far enough to become a full Grim Reaper in his battle with Asura. Apparently the battle had gone wonderfully, with many of Death's students growing into themselves and his son finally seeing all that would make him whole.

The end of the battle saw an equal amount of celebration and mourning. Good people were lost and no, evil was not completely gone from the world. But all seemed well, for the moment, and that was enough for most. Maka had been wearing a heartbroken look as she explained that the witch's spawn had helped to save them all, that Asura was once again safely sealed only this time in the cold black of dark blood. To this day the scythe meister couldn't hear her friend's name without cringing, oh so finitely.

Death the Kid, victory fresh under his belt and his many injuries healing slowly and painfully, left the celebrations to share his pride with his father. There was strength in his gait despite the limp and his face hard and noble regardless of the dried blood and bruises. He journeyed with the determination only a triumphant warrior could show, the only trophy the safety of all who were to become his responsibility.

He threw open the door to the death room, stifling his smile under the fear it would be too giddy.

He was greeted by a pile of ash and shadows, accompanied by Excalibur's unneeded commentary.

It is fuzzy what happened then. From the twisted story of the golden sword, Lord Death could only assume that his son had done the impossible. Perhaps unconsciously and perhaps all too willingly the young reaper had released a great deal of his newly acquired power. The surge between life and death had been blinding, disorienting. Those within death city who were as of yet unaware of their leader's death reported feeling a sense of confused nausea and slight asphyxiation; as though the breath of the city was held as it was redirected. All at once the world seemed to snap back although surely things would never be the same again, not for the reapers.

The result was…strange. Yes, Lord Death was back, but much of his strength seemed to be missing. He was Death only in title now, for though he retained the ability to collect and see souls he doubted he could ever again stand toe to toe with a kishen. As for his son, well, one would assume Lord Death's missing strength was hiding somewhere in the young man. Kid had yet to display such a thing to his father's knowledge but the elder sensed the change in him as surely as he sensed it within himself. Never before had a Grim Reaper been born only to reject his position for the sake of another; never before had one developed his abilities _one ring at a time _like Kid.

The boy was holding back. Unconsciously, but surely all the same.

And Lord Death had given him quite the earful once he saw what had happened. He had scolded and cajoled Kid for hours, the sun setting somewhere beyond the walls of his school and the time fast approaching midnight. Let his boy rue the day he had revived his father, let him recoil next time the thought to defy destiny crossed his mind, let him become ill at the thought of rejecting his birthright. Lord Death was _livid. _May all responsible feel his wrath. Even his own son. Shadows danced on the wall, haunting spirits from purgatory rose as they were unsettled, Death's mask distorting and twisting into what it once was. When he finally paused (to take a breath, not to stop his fuming) his son finally spoke.

'You are upset,' the young reaper began, somewhat uncertainly but relatively unruffled. He hadn't had a chance to change between the revival and his father's lecture, blood now rusty brown on his clothes and face, his knees shaking with fatigue.

'And I understand, Honorable Father, truly I do. I broke many rules in doing what I did. I altered the course of nature in a way not unlike that of my,' his eyes sharpened, his mouth became a tightened line 'brother. Asura. But…I have no intention of being anything like that monster. That failed reaper, that _demon, _that…I am not him. I will not do this again. I swear to never alter the Order we stand for no matter what the circumstance, ever again.' His eyes grew hard. 'But I do not regret this. I _refuse_. I will _not _be ashamed of saving my father's life.' Death the Kid had a look of stubborn will on his face that Lord Death knew for a fact didn't come from him. And he knew some grand error had occurred in the raising of his son and his heart sank.

Had he been unclear? Grim Reapers are not meant to _love _in the sense mortals did. They are not meant for something so illogical, so lacking in the meticulous cause and effect by which they must judge the world. Love is messy and uncertain and chaotic. It is twisted and at time false, dangerous and raging. The inability to make heads or tails of a simple human emotion had caused this branch of immortals to shy away; more often than not they push it to the side in favor of apathy, eventually executing their stoic decisions out of reflex. This was how it was. How it always was to be. For the sake of Order.

_Loveless._

_Let none be given and none received._

But Lord Death, the silly fool, had succumbed. He _loved _his city. His _citizens_. He had _loved _his mate. His _wife. _And he had made the mistake of loving his son. His _sons. _And somewhere along the way Kid had sensed that warmth and felt that it was highly important. That it was something to be embraced and applied. Perhaps it was when Death had explained to his son the facts of life? That strange attraction to another that was nothing more than pheromones and instinct to their species? Perhaps he had been foolish when he called it finding one's 'true love'?

He had gotten ahead of himself; somewhere in dealing with humans he had gotten lost in their fairy tales. But Death had hoped his error in life and in speaking had been lost on his son. That the professionally mannered young man would extract just what he needed to be an upstanding reaper and nothing more. Every parent fears their child will repeat their mistakes.

But then Death the Kid had gone and repeated history, right before Lord Death's eyes. Psyche Éclair, Sigh; even the way Kid said her name had a lilt to it, like a song.

_Psyche Éclair._

_I love her._

_Psyche Éclair._

_I love her._

_I LOVE her._

Kid wasn't _attracted _to Sigh as a simple Eve to his was _in love _with the young woman. And it was only a symptom of a long-standing disease Death had given his boy.

Lord Death wasn't sure if he had failed his son or if he had given the young man a very precious gift. Death the Kid had saved his father out of love; the love he had been taught.

'Get out of my sight,' Death had snapped, still fueled by anger and now, disappointment. Pride. Fear. _Love._ Such a medley of emotion! Where had he lost his way of the reaper?

Kid had nodded solemnly before marching away, head held high.

_That's my boy. My stupid, STUPID, boy. _

Death stopped in his reverie as he came to a halt before a door in the wall. The room beyond was very small but clean and tidy; an ornate chest made of heavy maple was latched shut in the corner; a closet held hanging garments wrapped in plastic to maintain their beauty; a vanity the same color as the chest held a tarnished silver hand-mirror, face up.

One side of the room was dominated by nothing other than a large picture frame that, though from the past century, was in spectacular condition. It was wood that had been painted a lovely and very realistic gold. Though it wasn't really the precious metal it had been craved so tenderly by hand it was surely something of high value by this point. This generation was quickly forgetting how to value the work of humans, though such a thing is so much closer to the soul than a machine.

Within the frame sat a portrait as intricately done as the setting in which it lay, a woman with lively hazel eyes that the painter was somehow able to capture. She wore a lengthy dress topped with a petticoat of royal purple and her hair tucked into her stylish hat, deep brown wayward tresses somehow finding their way free and framing her jaw. A lace veil did nothing to conceal the slight upturn of her lips or the china doll beauty of her face. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, a lavender parasol clutched in fingers gloved by white silk. She had, per request, been painted without the disfiguring scar that had arched across her face in life, one that had come from the cruelest oil burn. Such a crime, to harm a woman's face.

Though it was that burn that had attracted Death in the first place. Though such a mar would potentially leave her a loveless spinster in the world of man, the woman had opened the door of her family's home one evening to find a handsome gentleman caller. Not there for her gorgeous sister, but there for _her. _Damaged or not.

Eyes that were a very light hazel, almost a daisy yellow, stared down at him from the portrait in what his mind perceived as accusation.

There was a reason he didn't visit very often. It wasn't that his broken heart forbid such a thing; on the contrary, his grief had long since scabbed over from the time he had moved all her things here, and he was very capable of talking about her and gazing into her face without pain. No, the reason he didn't visit very often was simply because he didn't see why he should. He was Death. He knew more than anyone else that it was best to _let things lie._ The dead were dead and there was no coming back, save for in ghost form. And though he had hoped for a bit that his proud little woman would find her way back to him in a similar fashion he knew she knew better than that. That she would walk into the light knowing he wanted her to, knowing he wanted her, if not to be with him, than to be happy and at rest.

She could not hear him where she was. And yet speaking to her likeness soothed him in a way.

'I'm sorry I haven't been here in a while,' he was almost sheepish, almost felt as though he should have knocked before entering. 'Things have been rather eventful in recent years and Kid is a bit of a handful. Like me, I'm sure you would argue.' Death sighed, pulling up the vanity chair to sit before his late wife.

'I suppose I'm glad he surrendered a bit of power back to me. Just enough for me to get myself sorted out, to return from the pile of dust I was. Rather hard to explain to Excalibur. The old badger wouldn't leave without letting me know just how foolish I was. But honestly, sometimes I wonder if the power transferred back to me from Kid out of necessity, or if he willed it so. Did he miss me so desperately? Does he have so little faith in himself? Was he truly willing to forgo his birthright for another decade or two all to have me back?' Lord Death shook his head.

'In any case, I suppose I am selfishly glad my son loves me so much. Someday he must accept that I am to move on, though, and when that day comes I hope he realizes how vital it is that he look within himself and recognize his own strength.' It was silent in the room for a moment before Death spoke again. 'He's found someone, by the by. She's a very polite young woman and very pretty. Beautiful, really, in that lively way you had.' He sighed.

'That sass seems to have rubbed onto her from her adopted mother. Who happens to be your grandniece. _Our _grandniece, I suppose. Small world. Anais is quite the firecracker even this late in life. I call her to check up once in a while. She doesn't know I'm her uncle…I can only imagine that conversation would be…awkward, to say the least. Perhaps it's best if she remains in the dark.

This young woman…I fear she may be more dangerous than she knows. I fear there may come a time when she must be put down. And how that will affect our son. He is…' Death rubbed his face in fatigue. 'He is so far _gone, _Emily. It's no longer a crush or infatuation; he's in _love_. And she returns the sentiment, I know she does. But I'll not have another disaster like the rise of Asura. I didn't see his horridness because I _didn't want to._'

Death clenched his teeth together. 'I'll not be blinded by what I do not want to see. I'll not tolerate another ally stabbing me or my son in the back. Kid will not allow the world to be threatened on account of what his heart tells him. He is much too intelligent for that, too responsible. But knowing one's duty and being able to carry it out are two different things. And though I have faith in our son and that he will do what is right, I know there is going to be a lot of healing to be done afterwards.' Death sighed.

'You were so much better at this type of thing than me. Perhaps it comes with the territory of being human…?' his voice was wry, and though he knew his wife had moved on fancied he heard her voice in his ear. Polite, straining to hide her amusement yet ever patient with this immortal she had made crumble beneath her.

_So what do you want to do, my dearest Death?_

Lord Death chuckled darkly. 'Many things,' he whispered, mouth tight. 'Half of which I am certain are right…but not _right. _Pre-emptive strike for one; perhaps I really should just put her down. Or should I cage her? Dampen her awakening self? Crush her spirit? Or maybe my best option is to help her? Perhaps, if I can keep her from the path of darkness so eagerly taken by Asura and her father, perhaps…' he rubbed his chin, not so much in contemplation as in frustration. 'To think the union between wiccan and djinn ended in something like this. A djinn creature who can grant her own wishes, siphoning off the aura of others. Limited by her doubt and ignorance. Or perhaps her stubbornly juvenile perception of reality?' he laughed.

'She wears the mask of a hardened woman and yet is still an insecure child. Her spells change the world in the way she wishes it to be, full of glimmering flowers and shiny things that protect and defend her from that which would cause her harm. The defensive imaginary friend of a lost child. Isn't that something? And what sort of mean old man would I be to take apart such an innocent wonder?'

A chuckle that was both warm and nonexistent reverberated in his ear.

_Silly man. You care so much for what you cannot change._

'My greatest fault?' It was a question he expected no answer to. Another breathy laugh rang through the air, dusting through the room before everything fell still and silent."

The storyteller shook her juice bottle, stirring up the pulp from the bottom, before taking a swig.

"'There was hardly anything to be done,' he wiped his hands on the dusty towel dangling from the waist of his pants, wiping at the sweaty grime on his face. 'But I updated the entire electrical system. Gave it an all new life and separate fuses to ensure if one goes, the whole grid won't quit on you.' He waited for her respond. Any indication, really, that she had heard him. She just kept looking at him like she expected him to keep talking, her face carefully blank beneath the dark sunglasses she wore.

Indoors.

It was impossible to see what she was thinking in that pretty little head of hers, her lips a stoic line on her smooth skinned face. A scarf of deep red held back her violet hair and her arms were crossed, painted red nails tapping on her upper arm.

'Um, is there anything else?' He finally asked uneasily, completely frozen by a gaze he couldn't see. He suddenly felt horribly exposed in his dusty coveralls and worn work boots. Like she could see some part of him that no one else could. Suddenly this day didn't seem so easy. After a moment of silence, she spoke.

'No,' her voice was soft deep, younger than her stiff appearance made her appear. 'Thank you for being so willing to come out today, Bobby. I know it was last minute.' He chuckled uneasily, scratching behind his head and longing to run to the door. 'It's no problem, Miss. My Pops says Madame Éclair and my family go way back. Anything for her.'

'It's not _for_ her,' the young woman's voice was a bit hard, but failed to breech a surface of solidarity. 'But you have my thanks.' He nodded eagerly, feeling the fragile ground as he tread upon it. 'R-right. I heard she's in the hospital.'

'She is.'

'Is she doing okay?'

'No.' More stiff silence. The young woman turned on her heel, beckoning for him to follow her to the door. He did so, grabbing his tool box. Watching her straight back, one that lead to dangerous curves and long legs, he suddenly recalled her name. Sure, she had given him a name when she called. Said he was to call her Miss Éclair. But now, watching her move, her long odd hair swinging step, he spoke. 'Psyche, right? You're her kid. I haven't seen you since…didn't we go to school together? I thought you were just a new owner but-'

'Thank you for your time,' she cut him off. 'Have a nice day.' The door slammed in his face before he recognized the fact he was on the sidewalk. He stared at the newly painted wood in shock and offense a moment longer before walking back to his truck. He didn't have time for this. He had more appointments to meet.

'And five. And six. And five, six, seven, eight.' Mr. Pop clapped his hands in tune, usual smile on his face as the girls began to move. They were a little short-handed, many leaving after Madame entered the hospital and ownership passed on to Sigh. They believed Forbidden Fantasy would shut down and had submitted their resignations before the effeminate man could even attempt to convince them of otherwise. It was so obnoxious! Mr. Pop had been working for Forbidden Fantasy for nearly nine years. He had seen ups, downs, and right-arounds. And never once had his loyalty been let down. If Sigh was anything like her mother, they would be fine. It was truly too hard to find loyalty among the people of today.

'No.' Mr. Pop froze in his clapping, glancing over his shoulder. 'What was that, Honey?' Sigh sat in the audience. Mr. Pop had known her since she was just a shaky little girl following at Madame's heels. And now she was sitting the body of a grown woman, wearing the false skin of maturity. She was resented among several of the girls, especially those who had left, and he knew she could feel it. But that wasn't the cause of the dead woe on her face. It had been years since she was weak enough to fall to something as trivial as her peer's rejection. The girl had been dealing with her mother's absence rather roughly.

Most dismissed her glares and her biting words as her cruel nature simply coming to fruition. That she was just a witch loosened from her cage. But Mr. Pop refused to believe that.

'Mr. Pop, that writing does not fit the song.' He chuckled. 'It does well enough, Kitten.' He watched her mouth twitch, but whether it was fighting a smile or a frown he couldn't tell. He used to call her Kitten when she was short enough for him to rest his arms on her head. For her to bury her face in his torso when Madame snapped at her. 'For the audience, maybe. But to the trained eye, it's amateur at best.'

'It does look a bit awkward,' he sighed with a smile. 'But without a lead there's nothing I can do about that.' Sigh uncrossed her legs with a 'clack'. She had started wearing black heels and black slacks and red-_red _lipstick. Like a business woman. Mr. Pop still just saw a little girl playing dress up. 'Then _assign _a lead,' she said in forced patience, growing frustrated with the man's dismissive attitude. 'Gardenia.' The woman in question raised an eyebrow at Sigh's tone but didn't say anything. 'She's been the lead numerous times before. I'm sure she could handle it.'

'Oh, I don't know about that,' Mr. Pop breezed. 'The moves I've written for the lead are a bit advanced.'

'Then _un -_advance them.'

'The song you gave me won't allow for such a thing.' Sigh rubbed the bridge of her nose, fighting a headache. Didn't he know how much stress she was under? After half her team had quit on her she had all of a week to replace them and another week to _train _those replacements. That's two weeks of no shows. Two! Their re-opening had to be a blow-out, it had to prove that Forbidden Fantasy could go one even without Madame pulling it strings. So Sigh had wanted to go big. More lights, new items on the menu, more daring performances. She wanted to rock the city to its core, to put this place on the map in a way it needed to be. Was that too much to ask?

'How advanced are we talking?' She finally ground out. Mr. Pop smiled slightly as the girl continued to fall into his trap. 'I'll show you.' The stereo gave a happy little beep as the music started up again, on the edge of the climax. It was only, of course, the bare bones, just enough to get a feel for the beat. The band would add more meat than was on the track but as long as the dancers knew the tempo they would be fine.

Mr. Pop nodded the down plays to himself, lips moving but no sound escaping as he counted to himself. Wiry muscles coiled in experience as he immediately posed in leveè. He chanced a saucy smile at Sigh before beginning.

It was indeed as complicated as he had promised. It was intricate, all about the subtle movements while allowing for large, showy, techniques to be sprinkled throughout. Sigh noted several steps the dancers on the stage had yet to learn, including those she had only ever seen in old videos of Madame. The ornery bat was very gifted, noted as a genius on stage. Mr. Pop had been a fan, apparently, and Sigh wondered it that was one of the reasons the vain Madame had hired him in the first place.

The male dancer froze as the final step was made, breathing hard and looking more graceful than a lark in a tree. The girls on stage applauded enthusiastically, stars in their eyes.

Sigh growled. 'What were you thinking, writing something like that?' She snapped. 'These girls aren't nearly trained enough to tackle such movements! Your job is to write material that our people can actually do not some showy ditz that hasn't been done since last century!'

'The dance is fine. I had Antony look over it for me,' Mr. Pop's boyfriend was also a dancer. 'It's very doable, by someone who has the experience to commit to it. There's such a person in the room, actually, one who has been working with me for years. She has to realize that just because she doesn't _want _to do something, doesn't mean she _can't.' _the room went deathly silent. Sigh glared at the Mr. Pop so fervently the heat could be felt through her sunglasses. Even Dolly, the young woman who Madame had hired to take up Sigh's old chores, felt the tension in the air as she stopped mopping. 'What do you say?' Mr. Pop finally said gently. 'You won't be dancing just for me, you know.' Sigh gripped her upper arms so hard it hurt. She had been crossing her arms a lot lately, sinking into herself.

She stood, wriggling out of her suit jacket and revealing her red silk shirt. Or, rather, Madame's shirt. She had swiped it from the woman's closet after spending countless hours just curled in the bed, forming a cocoon out of her mother's sheets. 'I'm out of practice,' she grumbled, pulling off her shoes as she approached the stage. 'Don't blame me if it all goes to shit.' Mr. Pop grinned widely. 'It'll be fine, Attic Flower,' he cooed. 'Sweet Belladonna will not harm us.'

'Belladonnas are poisonous,' Sigh snipped but took her position on stage anyway. The girls stepped aside to watch and Sigh felt their weary glances smarting up her back. She tried to ignore them but couldn't stop her gaze from traveling sideways.

Glances of dampened curiosity were received from the newbies. They had heard of her, their almost invisible benefactor, forced to rely on the stories told by veterans. Veterans like Lily, whose gaze held no particular love for Sigh. It was almost accusatory, nearly malicious, and thoroughly fearful. Sigh had come home to a strange world. One in which she was suddenly the bad guy. And she was completely friendless on this alien planet. Perhaps she always had been. And it was only recently that she really felt it. Used when she was useful, feared when she came into power. Her gaze fell away, eyes closing briefly before looking back to Mr. Pop.

'Unless I was hallucinating you incorporated both a barrel roll and a calypso,' she noted. 'Which were preceded by the Vegas-style and separated by hip swivels. A bit overkill, you think?' Mr. Pop laughed. 'Well, you said you wanted it BIG, Honey. And you've got the hips for it.'

'Well you know-'

'Just do it already!' Gardenia barked. Sigh's gaze snapped to the dancer, eyebrow raised. To her surprise the woman was smirking, arms crossed and her fingers tapping on her biceps. Ivy gave small, silent applause, smiling as Sigh's eyes wandered over her.

Maybe not _completely _friendless.

For the first time in weeks she thought she felt a smile forming, her muscles loosening for a small instance before tensing back up. 'Alright,' her voice was still dull, but a little spark of life was in the word. She nodded at Mr. Pop, who pressed a button on the media remote. 'From the top. We need to make sure we have the time to integrate-' A knock at the door. It startled everyone on stage. Sigh blinked, eyebrow arching. 'Ignore it,' she commanded Dolly as the girl dropped her mop. 'We're closed. The sign says as much.' As though defying her statement, another knock came, bolder and harder than the last.

Could it be another repairman? Sigh hadn't arranged any for this day. The thought of one breaking her schedule after all the hard work she was putting in made her bristle. She leapt off the stage, feet padding on the floor with a grace she seldom used consciously. As her hands wrapped about the door handle she could taste her own rudeness on her tongue, her venom pooling in her mouth. She would snap at them nastily, inform them shortly that Forbidden Fantasy was not open at this time and they would have to return at one of the times dictated by the sign on the door. Could they not read?

She reached forward with her lips set in a firm line and her eyes burning with cold flame. Ripping the door open, she made to speak.

'I'm sorry but the sign says-' her words froze in her throat, her visitors smiling warmly. 'Sigh,' Kilik smiled 'how've you been?' Sigh opened and shut her mouth, suddenly ashamed of her rude behavior. She looked down and away, allowing Fire and Thunder to edge closer. 'Kilik. I…wasn't expecting you.' She was surprised at how suddenly shy she was, this glimpse of her past catching her off-guard. 'We're closed today…but you can come in, if you like.' She didn't know what she was thinking. Even as she held the door open for Kilik and his weapons to slide in, entering the dimly lit lobby that smelled of expensive cigars and tacky cologne, she wasn't certain why she stiffened.

'Continue without me, Mr. Pop,' she commanded the man as she entered the room with her companions. The dancer raised an eyebrow before his appraising gaze lit upon Kilik. Up. And down. He dared to smile knowingly at Sigh before turning back to the girls. 'You heard her ladies! Let's give her handsome friend a show!' Sigh rolled her eyes. Had she had the mind for such a thing, she would have been embarrassed at the statement. But she couldn't be that right now. She was mature. She was powerful. She had to be Madame.

'Dolly, would you get us something to drink? Tea should be fine.' The young woman nodded, smiling at her boss. Sigh felt bad for thinking the girl had been brainless before; what she lacked in wit she made up for with heart. 'So,' Sigh sat at a four seated table, gesturing for Kilik and his weapons to do the same. 'How're things?'

The young man smiled. It was so endearing Sigh couldn't help but smile back. She had last seen him at the Foundation Commemoration, but she hadn't spoken with him. She had been too busy avoiding Lord Death and Kid…and then that horrible news…she hadn't seen him since.

Kilik carefully took in her face, the fact that she wore dark glasses and the little frown lines that were apparent on her forehead. She worried her fingers on the table in front of her and, when the twitching grew obnoxious, he placed one of his hands on hers, dwarfing them. She jolted and stiffened at the contact. He could sense her gaze coming up to meet his before she relaxed.

Kilik told her he was on his way back from a mission in Africa, hunting a monster named Kony. The bastard was turning children into soldiers, forcing them to aid him in the gathering of innocent souls to be devoured. They had all been made to murder their own parents or they themselves would be killed, watching a demon eat the screaming spirits of their loved ones.

Fortunately Kony hogged all the souls for himself; Kilik was not forced to kill a kishin in the form of a child. The damage, however, was immense. The children had all looked at him with hollow, confused eyes, unsure how to feel once they were free. They no longer knew how to live without battle, and though they were now able to return to their home villages and whatever remained of their people, they had forgotten how to be happy. Time would be the only relief that could be offered to them. Only time could heal their wounds.

Kilik had hated himself for being so helpless, especially when Thunder suddenly, silently, had begun to cry. All he could do was hold the little girl close as she sobbed into his shoulder, her twin fighting the shivering of his own lips. Kilik's heart ached.

Although coming to Vegas meant he had to pass Death City, he felt it was time to check on the young woman in front of him. He couldn't go back to work yet, not the way he was feeling now. Besides, Fire and Thunder had been bothering him to visit for quite some time. The moment they heard she had moved away they were on his back, nagging and begging in their silently whining fashion. They sat close on either side of Sigh, applauding as their drinks were placed in front of them and reaching for the sugar cubes. He caught a stifled smile crawling on her face and wanted to ask why she was so weary of the gesture.

'It was rough,' he finally finished his story lamely, already feeling better just speaking out loud about it. He carefully watched her face, waiting for some reaction. She didn't really give one; just stirred her tea and ran her fingers through Thunder's hair. The young weapon had been growing it out and now possessed enough to make little pigtails on the back of her head. Her tears had dried but her eyes were still red as she gazed up at Sigh with something akin to fascination.

'I'm glad he's dead,' the wiccan finally said softly. 'Children…that's so awful. Did you make him suffer?' Kilik startled a bit at the question, granting Sigh a wary look. Sure, he _had _wanted to hurt the monster bad. To rip him apart as slow as possible, watch him writhe on the ground before finally succumbing to death's justice. And he had. That bastard had suffered, partially because Fire and Thunder's strikes were all about the blunt blow and partially because Kilik himself had purposefully held back to cause pain. But for Sigh to speak of something like that seemed…out of character for her.

'Yes,' Kilik nodded solemnly. 'I just…I didn't want him to die before paying for what he did.' It felt weird. Sigh's low voice and stagnant movements, her cold words and colder demeanor. It felt _wrong._

'May he rot in Hell.'

'Yeah.'

Fire jumped a bit as he burned the tip of his tongue on his tea.

Sigh shook her. 'I'm sorry I'm such poor company. I've just been,' she paused searching for words. 'Stressed out lately. Running a business isn't really fun, I guess. Although I hope the end result will be satisfying.' Her gaze wandered to the young women dancing on stage. Iris missed a step, stumbling a bit before catching up to the others. 'To watch everything come to fruition. I would invite you to come back and see it but you're busy. And it's not really a crowd meant for kids so Fire and Thunder would have to stay home,' she smiled to show she meant no harm. 'I shouldn't be sitting here with you guys right now. I have so much stuff to do. And yet the more I think about it, the more I just want to do nothing.'

Kilik nodded solemnly, look piteous. 'You just need a break. Lucky we showed up when we did, huh?' Sigh shook her head, surprising Kilik for the second time that day. 'No. You guys…you're distractions. I have too much to do.' She stood, leaving her tea behind. He hadn't seen her take a single sip. 'You're welcome to rest here for a bit before getting on your way again. If you need anything just ask Dolly.' The young woman jumped at the sound of her name, smiling mindlessly. 'Everything is on the house.'

'Wait.' Kilik stood as though to follow Sigh wherever she was about to retreat to, a frown on his face as his weapons looked up at him in concern. 'We came here to see _you. _Not to drink tea. I hoped we could talk for a while.' Sigh crossed her arms, lip crinkling. 'We did. We talked plenty.'

'That's not what I meant and you know it,' Kilik bit back, hands clenching on the table in front of him. 'I…we're worried about you. You have to admit, the way you left wasn't the best-'

'And how should it have gone?' Sigh snapped with unnecessary meanness. 'Should I have soft-shoed my way out? Send thank-you letters to everyone who felt obligated to befriend me?'

'Sigh,' Kilik's voice was tight. 'Don't do this.'

'Do what?'

'Push us away.' Sigh was silent as she gazed at Kilik solemnly. When her hand moved it was drawn to her face, toying with the rims of her sunglasses. 'Please leave,' her voice cracked. 'Please just go.' It was the first time she had allowed how broken she was to seep into her voice. How scared and fragile she was feeling. Kilik moved to get closer to her, hand outstretched to rest on her shoulder in what he hoped would be a comforting manner. She flinched away.

'Don't,' she murmured. 'Don't touch me.' She took off her sunglasses, rubbing her closed eyes as she spoke. He was surprised to find that she didn't have hollows beneath them; he had been certain that was her reasoning for sunglasses in the dim lighting. 'I'm tired, Kirikou. So very tired. And I can't help…I can't help but feel it's my fault. That I should have…if I had been there…'

'Naw, Psyche,' he didn't move to touch her again, although he sorely wanted to. 'There's nothing you could've done. You're only human.' Sigh snorted, eyes opening. Kilik stifled a gasp that would have certainly made things a lot more difficult. 'You don't know anything,' she whispered. Her eyes weren't normal anymore, too strange to even pass as contacts as they gazed at him. They seemed to glow in the semi-dark, foggy coils of magic dancing about irises so white they were nearly invisible. 'Look at me. Look at what I'm becoming and tell me how _human _I am.' She spat the word like she was ridding herself of it, arms crossing tightly.

'I'm not worried about how _human _I am or how _wiccan. _It's the things I've seen and been. And to think this whole time I've been around _children._' Fire and Thunder hovered behind Kilik, watching Sigh curiously. 'I can't stop. I can't make it stop. Everything's coming back. It's like I'm not really me anymore, like my head is full of someone else's thoughts and memories. I know…I know…. _he's coming for me._'

'Who?' Kilik demanded. 'Who? We'll protect you. _I'll _protect you. You have friends who can protect you.'

'I don't need your protection. I need your safety. I'm a danger to everyone, every_thing _I love. I need you to leave and never come back. I need you to forget you ever knew me.' The look of pain she'd placed on her friend's face nearly broke Sigh. Almost made her throw her arms around his thick neck and pull him in tight, weeping all her fears and anger and confusion into his broad chest. But she didn't. If he had been someone else, someone sterner whose giant aura was sturdy enough to catch her and whose eyes could see all that she was…

But he wasn't. And that was good. That meant her barrier was working.

'I can't,' Kilik's brown eyes were cinched at the edges, his teething grinding. 'How could I ever forget someone like you? How could I forget…' he struggled with himself a moment and Sigh watched him curiously. The way he looked at her was deep and burning, making guilt rile in her stomach from her lack of reciprocation. She knew. Oh God, she _knew._

'Kilik.' What could she say? She couldn't make this alright. She couldn't breathe those words, those three words that weren't sincere, not for her. She couldn't do that to him. Not Kilik. 'Kilik, I-'

'I know,' he cut her off roughly. 'I know it's not me, okay? I know you don't…we're friends. And I can deal with that.' Sigh's fingers brushed his bicep and he flinched, muscles quivering. As slowly as possible, so he could halt her motions if he chose to, Sigh folded herself into Kilik's body, pressing her head to his chest and wrapping her arms behind his back. She noted the quickening of his heart, his shortened breaths, the way he pressed her face into his shoulder when he finally pulled her close. Almost too close, almost too desperate.

'Let me take you home,' he whispered into her hair. 'Let us take you home.' Sigh shook her head gently, unwilling to break their embrace just yet. 'You're so kind,' she whispered gently. 'You've come to save me, haven't you? But…I have no home, Kirikou. I haven't had a home in so long…all I have left are milestones. There's only one destination for me…and you're not welcome to join.' He squeezed her tightly once more before pulling away, looking into her eyes. He was almost used to them now. Sigh was still Sigh after all; he shouldn't have let them startle him in the first place. He forced himself not to resist when she pulled herself free, straightening her clothes.

'I think it's best if you leave now,' she said not unkindly, placing her glasses back on her face. 'I have paperwork to get to.' Kilik nodded once, slowly, and Sigh turned her back to them. 'Come on, guys. Let's let the lady get back to her duties.' The two young weapons looks vaguely lost, perhaps under the assumption they would be able to spend more time with the purple haired woman. Sigh felt them staring at her back but refused to meet their eyes. 'Fire. Thunder. I said let's _go._' Kilik's voice would allow for now argument. Thunder gave a little sigh. Fire crossed his arms as they finally turned to follow their meister.

'Wait,' Sigh spoke just before they were out of range, just before they were at the point when she would have to shout and alert everyone to the topic of their conversation. 'What?' Kilik asked not-quite-rudely. Sigh bit her lip. 'How is he?' The African youth hesitated, his eyes glancing over his shoulder to eye Sigh's tense back. 'How is who?' Sigh's fingers dug into her upper arms. 'You know who.' Kilik sighed. 'Yes. I do.' He scratched the back of his head. 'What can I say? He's alive. Last I checked his heart was still beating and his lungs still pumping.'

'That's good, I guess.'

'No. It's not. He's alive but he doesn't seem to be _alive._' And because Sigh didn't want to talk about it, because she just wanted him to leave, damn it, so she could put her mask back on, she didn't tell him about the link. The one she had noticed recently, the one that was thin but stubborn and twisted. It was like there was a string of aura tied about her person, an aura the deepest black that had ever existed. It thrummed like a dying current but refused to go out despite how she unconsciously picked at it. She would rub and poke like it was a drying scab, testing the strength by which it had hooked into her. It seemed to extend into the distance, past the walls of Forbidden Fantasy and past the 'Welcome to Las Vegas!' sign. Past rolling dunes and arid breezes, breeching the walls of nature to enter a city that bent logic at every turn.

And there it found its source, the young man from whence the aura originated.

Sigh unconsciously tested the strength of the bond once again. It seemed to flicker before flaring back up defiantly. She knew she had to get rid of it, rip it off like the dead limb it was. It would just be trouble in the end, just something else for her to worry herself over. She didn't need it. She _didn't _need it. She didn't _need _it. Why? It's weak now; why couldn't she just tear it apart? What-

She met eyes with Kilik. He had spoken to her over his shoulder, as eager to leave as she was to have him leave. His aura was healthier than it had been upon his arrival, and though she took comfort in the positive effect she seemed to have had on him she still felt a sense of hollow sorrow. She hadn't wanted to know. What she would give to be ignorant, to be cruel, to simply dismiss his feelings as trivial musings of a boy. But Kilik was so much more than that; knowing of his depth, his dreams, his strength, Sigh could not simply see him as some love-struck fool. He was a person_. _Someone normal and kind and _safe_.

Unlike Sigh.

She trotted up to him before the door could shut completely, grabbing hold of the handle and propping it open with her foot. Fire and Thunder watched her curiously as she worried her bottom lip and stared at the young man's back back. 'Kilik.'

'What?'

'Look at me.' He gave a little sigh before turning to face the young woman. She closed the distance between them easily, reeling him in by the collar of his shirt. The kiss was fast and light, so delicate it could have been shattered by the rising tension. Space appeared between their bodies within seconds, Sigh looking down at her feet and avoiding the eyes burning into the top of her head.

'Did you…did you get something out of that?' Kilik's voice was tight and Sigh flinched. She lifted her face, their gazes locking. She found herself unable to form concurrent thoughts as his aura lashed out against her defensively, its fury winding her.

_Don't toy with my emotions._

His face was understandably wounded, fists clenched and the muscles in his neck flexing as his nostrils flared. She swallowed but he spoke again before she could answer him.

'Are you happy now?' Sigh shook her head, once again looking away from him. 'I thought I should try…I thought it was only right I should try for you. I wish... I wish…' Kilik was deathly silent. Sigh suddenly wanted to cry, knowing how selfish and stupid she was being and yet unable to make herself understood. She laughed wetly. 'If I had it my way,' she said with forced breeziness. 'It would be you. If that means anything, it would be _you. _You're…you're quite the catch. I know I've said it before and...I wanted you to know that I mean it. And your friendship means the world to me so as crazy and selfish and mean as I am…don't hate me.'

Sigh dared to lift her shaking hand, resting it chastely on his shoulder. 'Don't leave hurt. I don't like hurting the people I love.' She was glad her glasses prevented him from seeing the building tears in her eyes. Although his eyes were still intense and hard, he nodded slowly. She took a shaky breath. 'I love you…just not the way you need me to.' 

'Sigh,' his hand covered hers, his mouth tight but his aura calming. 'I'm not…angry. I just…time would be great. I just need time to…' he hesitated before chuckling uneasily. He never finished the sentence, instead disengaging from the vulnerability in her eyes and walking away.

_I need time to heal from you._

She honestly didn't know what to do as she watched his retreating back, taking in the confused accusations in the eyes of Fire and Thunder as they caught onto the downturn of their meister's mood. She was the monster here, the heartbreaking beast with nothing left one could call a conscience. Why couldn't she love _him_? Someone good for her and normal, someone who's issues in life, though more complicated than the average human, where certainly not continuously looped into the affairs of the immortal.

She tried to picture it. Dates with him where he cooked for her and made interesting conversation. His hand enveloping hers and his brown eyes locking and holding and assuring her of his purest intentions. Thunder as a flower girl and Fire as a ring bearer. Little brown-eyed, brown-skinned children with their father's laugh.

_He would just die before me. Like everyone else I love. Leave me as alone as ever._

_Why would I ever think such happiness was meant for me?_

Sigh was so lost in her reverie she had hardly noticed Kilik and his weapons were gone, that the sidewalk was once again empty of anyone of interest and her arm was outstretched as though to stop him before it was too late.

Though it was.

She lowered her limb as though it was painful to do so. Painful to let go of her friend. If he would still let her call him that.

'Excuse me, are you Psyche Éclair?' She jumped at the voice behind her, turning with wide eyes to look at the man who had crept up so silently. Brown hair molded into stalagmites all over his skull, thick glasses and an air of the educated arrogant.

He looked eerily similar to one Ox Ford. Save for the hair. And bits and pieces of his face were different. And if she blinked, that sense of arrogance would vanish into uncertainty.

'Who wants to know?' She challenged in a temper she didn't really feel. He shrugged uneasily. 'Well, um. Purple hair and dark skin and…your eyes are grey, right?' Sigh was silent. 'Yeah, so you're her. You're Psyche. Or that's your name right now?' Her gaze darkened. 'Now and always. Now if you'll excuse me.' She turned on her heel, intended to rush back into Forbidden Fantasy to ensure practice hadn't come to a screeching halt. She had to keep going forward. If she looked back she would only regret-

'Wait!' She didn't know why she should. But there was something bordering on desperation in his voice that stilled her feet.

'What?' He swallowed, perhaps hearing the rising irk in her voice. He most certainly didn't have Ox's confidence. 'I just…my name is Otto. Otto Ford.' Sigh raised a brow. 'Do you know an Ox, Otto?' The young man's face brightened at the bone she offered. 'Yeah! He's my little brother.' Sigh felt her lips twist into a forlorn smile.

She'd had _friends _once.

'Fair enough. Why are you here? Spit it out. I'm tired.' He hesitated. 'I'm Otto and you're…you're not human.' Sigh snorted, stifling her shock. 'Obviously not. Did Ox tell you that?'

'No. I read about it. It's also how I found out that you've been alive for nearly a century, that you were found in Eastern Africa, that you saw more of this world in your childhood than most see in a lifetime, that Psyche is not your birth name, that….'

Her first thought went to the fact that he was rambling. The guy obviously didn't know how to take a breath, opting to forgo air in order to make his point. As he spoke his face grew steadily redder, whether due to the heat or due to his own knowledge of how crazed he sounded Sigh couldn't tell. But she supposed that really wasn't her concern at the moment.

'My…my name?' she almost whisper, taking a cautious step back in his direction. 'You know who I am?' He nodded, a pitying smile twisting onto his face for reasons she didn't understand. It almost made her angry. 'Yes, Rehema, I do.'

'…I think you'd better come inside, Otto.'"


	16. Chapter 16

**BB says: **Update! Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? I'm sleepy…

"She was smarter than people knew. _They _were smarter. Of course most people just saw them as two ditzy, shallow girls, two individuals more concerned with shopping and fashion and magazines and make-overs to care for anything important.

Like the economy?

Poverty?

World hunger?

Well, those issues weren't directly an issue for them, so no, they couldn't care anymore than the majority anyone sitting in a clean office or classroom, fretting and whining over matters they have no interest in leaving their real-leather massager chair for. Donate a dollar from one's million dollar paycheck? Sure. Those kids in the sweatshops could make it up with a new pair of tennis shoes. But honestly, one could honestly say the two of them cared as much as anybody else. In not caring any more than society told them to.

It's just that, over time, very little of their brain power has been contributed to pondering such things. To trying to find solutions to problems that were not their own. It's a dog eat dog world out there, ladies and gents, and one can't be worried about being a good Samaritan when you've got a druggie on your heels trying to steal your latest find to catch more crack in his pipe.

But you _need _that find because your little sister hasn't eaten in three days and you're determined to pawn your steal if only to get a bit of the pink back in her cheeks. To try and fight that awful dead fish look in her eyes, the one that has just been too present in the past few weeks; months; years.

Liz and Patty had survived a long time on their own. Two pretty girls in an ugly world with uglier people. And though they weren't smart in that way that the "educated" claimed to be they were world smart. Street smart. Intuitive, Kid said, a quirk on his lips that may have been a smile of approval.

And speaking of Kid he was the subject on Liz's mind at this moment and for several moments before. Due to their connection to one another it was really impossible to ignore spiritual distress. Even if Kiddo was trying to hide it (and doing a poor job; unlikely for a man that was determined to be perfect in everything he attempted) this strange sense of unease reverberated through the Thompson sisters as surely as it did him. It wasn't a constant thing, and Liz could only feel nips and bits of it when he was near, but she knew it must be a naggingly constant ache for him. It was in his eyes, the way he moved, even the way he spoke. And she didn't know what to do about it.

'What do we do now, Sis?' And she looked at Patty. Because she didn't know the answer. But she knew that Patty could feel it too and that was a step in the right direction. She wasn't crazy. Neither of them were, really (although the jury may have still been out on Patty).

It wasn't that Kid had changed. No, he was still the same neurotic, obsessive, demanding little prick he had always been and assumedly would always be, somewhere in him. And his spirit was by no means broken; it still awed Liz with its size and power and above all, its gentleness. And no, she hadn't yet happened upon him weeping or sniveling (more than usual) or writing a broken-hearted country song; so she could only imagine he wasn't depressed.

But, damn it, she was tired of being woken up at night because the jackass wasn't sleeping and was totally sucking at sneaking out to his secret garden.

Tired of watching him pause in whatever he was doing to get that misty, lost look in his eyes.

Tired of feeling his soul lash out wildly with a call that while similar to the one it used to rally she and her sister, was innately different, somehow. And to hear that call remain unanswered.

Lord Death was little to no help on the matter. She and Patty had actually pinned the reaper down in between meetings and jovial taunting of the students and as usual he greeted them with goofy abandon. Patty responded in kind. Liz remained silent. She wasn't into wild greetings.

'Kid's not talking,' she explained, 'and answers would really be appreciated.' Was it some sort of reaper thing? A sign of maturation? Does he no longer need sleep? Is he being overtaken by some grand knowledge that will always follow him? Is he changing in a way that they cannot follow?

Lord Death gave a warm, wane chuckle at her questions. Apparently Kid was not changing in any way that they wouldn't understand. He was just being his usual, handful self.

Silence.

'So,' Liz started again. 'What's wrong with him?'

'Absolutely nothing. Kid's reactions are natural for him,' Lord Death insisted.

'Reactions to what?' Liz pounced, eager for answers. Patty was silent, absorbing information as it came their way. Patty was always wonderful at absorbing and containing. Liz was the leader, but Patty was like an ever-present encyclopedia, ready to regurgitate just where they had hidden their stash or the exact page number and paragraph Kid needed or the words used in a conversation and the implications. Patty was a genius. Just not in the conventional sense.

Lord Death bobbed for a bit, pondering. 'A broken heart,' he supposed, 'but not a broken will. Kid is thinking, calculating what he wants his next move to be. And perhaps that is having him act a little wonkier than usual. But he is still Kid and he is much too stubborn to allow faults to appear based on something like this.'

Like what though? Lord Death was always so abstract! Liz opened her mouth to speak, but was beaten to the point when the door opened behind her. And Death the Kid stalked in, a bag in his hand with the bold, almost obnoxious, logo of Señor Chick-Chick.

Señor Chick-Chick was one of the few businesses in Death City without Lord Death's name sketched across the front. It was founded by a man born in Toluca, Mexico named Romano. No one quite knew his last name. But it was common knowledge he was crazy. Not cute crazy or funny crazy but crazy like he'd been in the 'Happy Fun Farm' more than once in his life and would assumedly end up there again. But he was a harmless nut-job, one who was kind to animals and children and always had something polite to say to everybody. Ironically he had been the only one to maintain absolute control during the kishin years and people always joked that even the kishin's madness wanted nothing to do with the fucked up workout in Señor Romano's head.

But if there was one thing to be said about the man with the too-bright brown eyes and the overly-toothy smile it was that he was an absolute messiah in the kitchen. His recipes were tex-mex nirvana and he himself was studied by culinary schools across the country because of his ability to create flavors no one could quite replicate. One always knew when their food had been cooked by Romano himself as opposed to one of his kitchen hands because the food was absolute sin on the palate.

But it didn't stop there.

Señor Romano was married to Linda Johnson, a woman who had once worked for the highest ranking restaurant in Louisiana before settling with the love of her life in Death City. She brought southern soul to the kitchen in warm contrast to her husband's Hispanic heritage, and together they made Señor Chick-Chick a name that everyone recognized. It had quickly evolved into a chain that wrapped about the southern hemisphere of the USA and the west coast, over taking cheaper tasting fast food giants as the Señor Chick-Chick logo took over one town after another. By logic the couple were both assumedly millionaires if not billionaires by this point. And yet they still worked at their original restaurant, up to their elbows in tortillas and oil, sweating and joking and kissing in the kitchen.

Death the Kid and his weapons were loyal customers; or at least monthly ones. See, when two women live in close vicinity to one another for a long time they tend to "sync up" on their monthly cycles. So when the Thompson sisters inevitably got their "visitor" at the same time _every time_, Death the Kid was left living through a week of pointless bickering, sobbing, and snacking. It was terrifying; and that's coming from young man who battled _demons_. But if there was one thing that would offer solace in Death's home, if only for a short time, it was Señor Chick-Chick.

It was only as Liz nibbled on her taco salad that she would stop griping at how fat she was becoming and the water weight about her middle. And as Patty shoveled back chimichangas she could hardly remember she had threatened to un-man Kid in an awful way.

For his part Kid was fond of the southern style cooking that was Linda's specialty, a fondness that could even overcome his need for neatness. After all, southern soul food is greasy, fatty, flavorful, and _amazing; _even Kid couldn't prevent the inevitable grease on his fingers and face or the crumbs that would occasionally tumble into his lap. A guilty pleasure.

Even as he walked into the Death Room and planted his bottom in the same gold chair he always used when visiting his father on the job, he was rooting around in a bag and fishing out a drumstick. He bit into it with the resounding crunch that was half the joy of eating chicken fried _right _and obviously seemed to be in his own world. This wouldn't be a concern, of course, had Liz and Patty not left the manor as it was, and had not seen just how many bags Kid had actually been working his way through. He could really put it away; Liz was pretty sure he had murdered the other five orders of six-piece meals before getting to this one. An alarming thought. Kid already possessed the unnatural appetite most young men sport; but when combined with his occasional bouts of "stress eating" they were lucky to have anything worthy of being called comfort food left in the house.

The Death Room had fallen silent much too quickly at the appearance of Kid. Liz knew they were being super suspicious in allowing such a thing to happen, but she wasn't sure what else to do.

'You were talking about me,' it wasn't a question. Nor was it offended. Kid just finished off his piece of chicken and reached for another.

'We sure were!' In Liz's opinion, Lord Death could be a bit more honest than he needed to be. But that makes sense, really. Death is a very honest thing, for the most part. There's not really any deceit to be had in it; the most straightforward scenario in existence is that of live or die. Kid hummed in understanding of his father's words and Liz was snapped from her reverie. 'Alright,' he murmured. 'Continue. Now you have the star of the show, as it were, and the play must go on.' There is was. A taste of animosity that Kid quickly covered with well-played amicability. Lord Death hummed. 'No, no, drop that tone. These two were just leaving. Weren't you ladies?' Liz looked at Lord Death in surprise, raising an eyebrow. 'We were?'

'Well, yes. I winked at you.'

'Ah.' She was a little too understanding of his oddness. Heaven forbid she become crazy enough to finally tolerate this family of grim reapers without question. She was quite proud of herself for being able to hold onto her down-to-earthedness through everything. 'Let's go Patty. I have a hair appointment anyway. And you know how Crystal resents waiting.' Patty smiled widely and nodded. 'Ooo! Can I get a mani-pedi? And new gloves? But not to go _over_ the mani-pedi but, like, for after, in case it gets cold…' The Patty's voice faded into the background as the door swung shut behind the twin pistols.

There was silence between the two reapers for a moment, broken as Kid rustled for another leg.

'Do you want to talk about it?' Kid shrugged and huffed like a human adolescent; indignantly.

'About what?' Lord Death fought the urge to sigh.

'They're worried about you, you know.'

'There's no need to worry. There's nothing wrong.'

'Really?'

'Really.' Kid took another large bite of his substantial meal. It was a shame that he wasn't really hungry; he was just, well, eating. Lord Death raised an unseen eyebrow. 'You seem like you're trying to bury something in chicken.'

'I'm not. That's idiotic.'

'Good. Because you know that there's not enough drumsticks, Chick-Chick Bites®, or Chocolate Lava 'Splodes® to fill that hole you feel.'

'…I don't know what you're talking about.' Lord Death bobbled on his shadows a bit, his large form shrinking to the average height of six-three as he came to stand before his son. He lowered his masked face, green eyes visible in the gaping eye holes and the split in the front of his suddenly solid cloak revealing his crossed arms.

'Oh, I'm sure you don't. My intelligent, adorable, three striped boy.' He reached out and mussed Kid's hair in a way only he could do, easily dodging when his son gave the kneejerk response of trying to swat him away. Lord Death reverted back to his shadow body as he turned away from Kid with a small laugh. 'All right, all right. I'm agitating you, aren't I? Good. I've heard every healthy parent-child relationship is reliant upon the parent being a pain to deal with. I must be doing something right then?' Kid grunted, down to his last piece and just a little too irritated at that fact.

'Well if nothing is the matter, do you suppose you could leave? Daddy has work to do, you know? And you're pooin' up the whole area with your perfectly alrightedness.' Perhaps Kid would have glared had anyone else said something like that to him. But Death was Death and Kid was Kid and he stood up without a fight. 'Oh, and one more thing.' Kid glanced over his shoulder from where he was preparing to walk through his father's mirror. It was newer trick he'd learned, and so far he could only go home from Shibusen and back again…but he was still proud of himself. Like a new toy, he was fully ready to keep using it until he got bored.

'I forbid you to go to Las Vegas.' Kid jerked as though he had been shocked, eyes wide. 'W-what?'

'Kiddo, I don't want you going to Las Vegas. In fact, I _forbid _it. Do you understand?'

'Father…' Kid seemed at a loss for words, his mouth gapping soundlessly for a moment. 'You can't…you can't mean that.'

'Ah, but I do. The way things are, I don't see the point in you going. So I don't want you there. Why would you want to go, anyway?'

'Because I-'

'No. And there's nothing you can say.' Kid's temper had been ignited –it was impossible to ignore his boiling point eyes- but Lord Death couldn't be moved. The younger reaper made a jaw movement, one that signified the grinding of his teeth and his struggle with an assumedly disrespectful retort. One that Lord Death could only imagine involved yelling. But if Kid lost it then his façade of being well would be broken like so many dreams, left to rot in the wind. And the clever boy recognized this.

'Will you at least tell me why?' Kid forced his voice to a deadly calm. It amused his father. 'I already said. There'd be no point to your presence. There haven't been any Kishin-eggs there lately nor the disappearance of any number of souls that hasn't already been dealt with. The city of sin has been anything but.' Lord Death cocked his head to the side. 'So, again, the real question is why would you want to go, son?'

Kid's nostrils flared as he bared his teeth. 'You _know _why,' he snarled. 'Don't taunt me.'

'If it means so much to you, why haven't you gone?' Kid was silent. Because after that witch had deemed it her right to plant doubt in his mind he had, that very night, attempted to go to Vegas. And all had gone well, originally. He was able to enter the city with no trouble, he was able to walk the streets and trace the path he had taken so long ago when he had stumbled upon a bespectacled young woman at the mercy of a kishin-egg. But when he grew close to Forbidden Fantasy, the home stretch as it were, his feeling of unease increased tenfold. His instincts were immediately edged. Foreign magic was in the air.

He never found his destination. He had walked the right streets, he had followed the maps, and he was standing in front of it. But it wasn't there. It was like the entire block had vanished into a loop, immediately taking him from one side to another without showing him what lay within. Like it had never even existed.

He had spent hours trying to figure his way around it, only stopping as the sun began to rise and he realized that if his weapons awoke to an empty house they would panic. Begrudgingly, he had torn himself away, trying to swallow down his concern and his anguish at the hidden fate of his former maid. Surely no harm had befallen her? Hadn't the witch claimed to love the young woman? But what was a witch's word worth?

He returned every few days, when he knew he wouldn't be missed, attempting to work at the massive puzzle presented to him. He noticed some nights people would appear out of nowhere and he assumed they were Forbidden Fantasy's audience and crew. So perhaps the spell was on the building itself rather than Sigh? And she would have to leave at some point, right?

But then Forbidden Fantasy had reappeared. And he had entered quickly before it could vanish again, only to be told the mistress wasn't home.

Sigh.

By the apparent logic of the spell (an oxymoron, no?) he could walk by Sigh on the street and never even know. An eternal loop surrounding her wherein nothing that she refused could get in. He could walk _right past her _and never even know. Would she? Had she seen him on that day, that day that she wasn't home and yet couldn't have escaped? Had she watched him search for her, scour the world for her?

He hated her. Oh, how he hated the woman that seemed to have enraptured him in a way that should have been, must have been, cruelly plotted.

Kid had stayed silent on the matter. There was nothing his father could do. And the young reaper wasn't sure he wanted his father to know just how far he had gone. Something in Death's demeanor gave away the fact he wasn't entirely comfortable with Kid's fascination with the young woman. And Kid was afraid something like this would happen. That Lord Death would force him away from Sigh.

'Father,' Kid finally spoke, his voice hoarse. 'You have to understand. I…I can't just leave her. I can't quit. I want…I _need _her to be okay. If I just know that she's okay…'

'What has she done, Kid?' Lord Death asked gently, pleased he had gotten his son to open up. 'Why can't you go to her?'

'I tried,' Kid admitted. 'But there's a spell about her; I can't even get close. She's hidden herself from me.' His hands fisted themselves at his sides as pain he had never known before recent days reasserted itself in his chest. 'She doesn't want me.' Familiar pity and despair entered Lord Death but he crushed it beneath a fist of determination. 'All the more reason then, no?' Kid refused his father's look but Death saw him swallow hard. 'A break is what you need. You know what the wisest men say about distance and love. And perhaps this will be a time of reflection, wherein you can open your eyes to _healthier _options?'

Kid's jaw set, biting against words that would assuredly do nothing for his case.

_I don't __**want**__ options._

_ I don't __**want**__ to stop._

_ I just want…_

_ I __**hate**__ that I want…._

Lord Death gave a silent sigh, preparing himself mentally and emotionally for the next blow against his boy. 'I know that look,' he murmured in Samarian, a dead tongue among mortals. 'Kid, you'll not disobey me. Not this time. A fragment of my soul is lodged within you; a part of you is a part of me, just as true with every parent and child. I'll not let you out of my city. From hence 'til a future point, you are not to leave for Las Vegas.'

'YOU CAN'T DO THIS!' Kid roared, decorum be damned. 'The world needs me! Needs _Death! _You think to stop everything on a _whim_? You think to-'

'SILENCE, BOY.' Lord Death's command came in his normal voice, deep and graveled with age and power. 'You'll not tell me how to do a job I've done for centuries. The world needs death and it shall have it. As long as we two live, death is real. We exist to extinguish those that seek to do away with Order. Kishins and lost souls with the potential to become such things. We feel the disturbance and instinct commands us to fix it. However, Las Vegas is no longer a case for you. It will be watched by my death scythes for any future phenomenon. But death itself needn't be present.'

Kid's eyes were wide, his nostrils flaring and his mouth a pale line. He knew his father spoke the truth. The link through their souls was beyond his power to break, the link where the powers of death flowed freely until one or the other died. Years of using his soul as a shield had granted Lord Death a flexibility that none other could boast, his soul stretched and manipulated like putty. It was like an invisible child harness about Kid's waist, ready to grow taunt should he grow foolish.

Helpless. He was helpless beneath his father's will.

He knew she didn't want him. He just _knew. _But, in the same breath, being parted so roughly was obscene. He didn't want to be forced away by anything but her.

Kid knew he was mad. He felt familiar insanity lapping up the opportunity presented in his turmoil. He could not afford to allow it hold of him again but felt it coiling all the same.

He snapped a turn wordlessly, throwing himself through the mirror. It rippled for a moment before stilling into the form of Lord Death's reflection. The older reaper sighed, feeling his age and just how terrible he must have seemed. But he had to be certain. If this was just a situation similar to Kid's infatuation with Maka Albarn than the issue would resolve itself and the mess could be forgotten…at least on this playing field.

Hopefully, for her own health, Psyche Éclair would remain in friendly contacts with the citizens of Death City. She would find herself out of whatever cloud of mourning she was in and would realize that a healthy soul needed a healthy heart to thrive and a heart needs love. It needs friendship. Death wasn't blind; he had seen the girl change for the better in his city and was glad to have helped a gentle, if mesmerizingly strange, soul. He cared for the girl as he cared for one of his own people and would be very bothered if she faced a downslide. That being said, may their next meeting be on friendly terms.

He didn't want to think about the chance of the girl losing herself to madness; as she was genetically predisposed to do.

Lord Death looked up at his mirror, eying his reflection as it stilled from his son's journey. Gazing deep, he noticed something distinctly odd.

'Have you come to boast?' Lord Death growled, his patience long dispersed. His reflection's mask cracked and fell away, taking the shadows with it. His bare face smiled at him kindly, its eyes mirthful. A movement to the side signified the approach of another form.

'I haven't the time, Mabaa,' Lord Death rumbled.

'That's cruel,' the witch hummed, slinging her arm around Death's copy and running her fingers through its hair. 'It's been so long since I've seen your pretty face and you've seen mine. I thought it was time for a reunion.' She sighed, face unemotional but eyes sparked in a way he'd never seen on the witch. 'Especially since we are both so concerned for our legacies. This younger generation is truly something else, aren't they? And we old folks, we are made to care for the broken children of our bodies and blood and pray they'll not fall to our pasts.'

She looked at him grimly. 'Death, once upon a time I called you an ally. Recently, I have reasserted that alliance to destroy your lost one, Asura. And it is because of this tenuous partnership that I choose to express my…hesitant willingness to cooperate.'

'No riddles Mabaa. Say what you mean and go,' Lord Death felt a breeze ghost across his neck as the woman brushed a hand on his copy's shoulders. 'I come baring no ill will,' Mabaa responded. 'The opposite really. I've come to remind you of a simple witch's law; you keep what you kill. What you can defeat, is yours to do with as you please.'

'What nonsense-'

'Your son shows an interest in my granddaughter.' Lord Death was quiet a moment before breaking into dry laughter. 'She is of your blood then? I should have known.'

'Yes, you should have. But that is not the point.' She clucked her tongue to the roof of her mouth. 'Too light winning make the prize light, no? A notion courted by your boy, methinks.'

'You know nothing of it.'

'Oh contraire. Do you think I like doing this, keeping her holed away?' Death gave Mabaa a look. 'Yes,' he said dryly 'yes, I do.' Mabaa gave a derisive laugh. 'You know me so well! But, aside, I find the thought of their togetherness repugnant. It goes against everything we witches stand for. And yet…this child is not a witch. Like her mother before her, were she not to call me by title and were my heart not to pound with affection at the sight of her I'd hardly believe her mine. This adorable little mutt. My precious halfy.' Lord Death sighed.

'Mabaa-'

'No, Death, listen. It is for this affection I hold that I have come. I want you to know, were circumstances different, I would perhaps gaze upon this with a new eye. The mingling of our blood could in hope fix a world old people like us have so thoroughly and cruelly destroyed. My heart knots at the mere notion of him taking her into his arms; but I am old. And I assuredly would die long before them. And then they would be free to be as one. But that is a life apart. In this world, my granddaughter is cursed. Cruel world! You and I, we know the bitter sting of what it is to lose a child. To madness, to death, ashes to ashes. And yet I must suffer the pain once more. I hold no guilt, coddling the girl to me until she is ripped away. My only hope lies in the strength I have taught her; that which was not enough to save her mother.'

Mabaa looked up at Death and he saw the look in her eyes for what it was. Woe. 'From the time of her birth, my granddaughter was destined to die at the hands of her father in order to kill the beast. A fortune told by the great immortal Oshun herself and not to be denied. It seems that all our running and scheming has brought us here once more. Aisha forgive me.' She eyed Death seriously, pulling away from his reflection. The doppelgänger vanished abruptly at the lack of contact.

'For the first time in so long I feel hope,' Mabaa almost smiled. 'And in comes in the form of that which I cannot approve. Death, my request is simple and I believe it will be in both of our best interests.' She leaned in close as though sharing a secret, or perhaps thinking to leap through his mirror and into his Death Room. But the old witch knew better than to converse with any manner of creature on their own territory.

'Relinquish this restriction upon your son, and I shall reveal my granddaughter to him. Perhaps, with death on her side, she may survive her destined encounter. His obsession is staunched, my heir lives, and you can save yourself from being the seven lighted shadow parent you fear you have become.'

'You forget to mention that this is a creature the likes of which neither of them have encountered before,' Death commented dryly. 'One capable of total soul manipulation and spirit disfigurement. It killed your daughter, a wiccan more powerful than any witch, save for perhaps yourself, and has managed to survive uninhibited in a world where any threat to the kishin was strategically hunted down and killed by his followers. Frankly, it does not seem like anything I wish for my son to be involved in, especially since the destruction of this creature is prophesized to only cost one life. I'm sure you can understand that I would rather lose your child than mine.' Lord Death cocked his head to the side. 'As hard-hearted as it may make me sound.'

Mabaa seemed undeterred by his words, examining her impeccably manicured nails. 'And how would your son react to her death?' she asked calmly. 'Knowing that he could have helped her and that you're the one who prevented him?'

'He will have to live and hate me, then. It is preferable to his corpse's love.'

'You trusted him to kill a kishin and yet shiver at the thought of a djinn?'

'Different monsters, different natures. He was trained to kill one not the other.'

'Your lack of confidence is sickening.'

'I think logically. The boy was trained his whole life to destroy a millennia old demon king, not a djinn who has been collecting strength for centuries. Help her yourself.'

'I cannot. My magic is unsuited to do much more than annoy a djinn's chaos magic.'

'Your unwillingness to fight your own battles hasn't changed over the years, Mabaa. It's as repugnant as ever.'

'It is not unwillingness, Fool Man, it is inability. You and your boy are masters of Order; perfect to combat a djinn.'

'It is not our fight.'

'We are off topic. Your boy's faith in you and vice versa aside, her death would cause quite a blow, correct?' And now Mabaa did smirk. 'You reapers are so very attached to those upon which you imprint. Their deaths tend to be…_damaging._' It was wise of Mabaa not to enter his Death Room after all; Death had the sudden urge to throttle her. 'What do you know of it?' he commanded authoritatively, voice venturing dangerously close to its original tenor.

'Much,' she purred, unabashed. 'Enough to know of its eternal scarring.'

'Kid has not imprinted.'

'He is quite adept at his performance then.'

'It is infatuation.'

'Something you know, or something you hope?' Death was silent, begrudgingly admitting to himself that he old witch was working a nerve. Sensing the steady decline of the fight, Mabaa sighed through her nose. 'Time ticks on to the end, Death, and I'll await your answer.' She turning from him, looking as though she wished to walk deeper into the Death Room's reflection. 'But keep in mind that every bated breath is a step closer to the toll of the bell.'"

The narrator was wearing a sleeveless shirt with a low neckline, demonstrating just how youthful and perky her body truly was. It was a hot day, hotter than usual, so no one could really fault her for her attire. And yet it was impossible to ignore the sudden interest her male students had in sitting in the front row or how attentive they suddenly were to her every word. If she noticed, she didn't mention it. Although Tar growled and snapped at a gutsy boy who made to scoot even closer. The boy yelped and fell on his bottom, the storyteller pausing to coo encouragingly at her little dog.

"Sigh's ears were ringing in a way that was becoming more and more familiar to her in recent days.

'…_Kuja kwangu.' _Perhaps using magic to bring a bottle of liquor and aspirin to her desk was an abuse of power. But surely Bibi wouldn't mind just this once. Part of the reason Sigh was so stressed was the Bibi's fault, after all, and so the old witch should expect repercussions such as this.

Sigh gurgled a chuckle as she tossed back the pills, delighted by the notion that the witch's most dastardly plan was simply to ensure her granddaughter was appropriately harassed. Mabaa was her most content when Sigh was struggling to master a particularly complex spell, it seemed, and the more Sigh threatened to quit and pass out the more assuredly the witch would cackle meanly and force her to press on.

_Nothing good comes from easy labor. _

Eerily similar, Sigh decided, to Madam's wisdom.

_Pain before beauty. _

Her headache threatened to get worse.

And then one must consider her blotchy past, made all the more mysterious and terrifying by that fool Otto Ford. Digging into a history that he had no business in, opening her eyes to her stalkers and abusers and terrorist organizations. Of _course _right? Heaven forbid Sigh even begin to feel settled in any life without something biting her in the ass.

_Rehema._

Sigh scrunched up her nose, stirring the whiskey in her tumbler with one shaky finger.

_Rehema._

Her free hand allowed its fingers to ball in her hair, kinky and tangled.

_Rehema._

'Leave me alone,' she snarled at the hallucination in the corner. 'I don't care anymore. Just…just let me be.' Aisha didn't move; she could not be dismissed, as Sigh had learned. It seemed like the specter thought itself to have more freedom now that Sigh had recognized her for who she was. It was almost as though she expected Sigh to mourn her or something; but how could she mourn what she had yet to remember fully?

'…I don't understand what you want.' Sigh dared to glance up at the figure she knew wasn't really there. As usual, the ghostly form seemed solid and yet strangely ethereal, the details of her face lost somewhere in transition with only her body sparking a strange sense of nostalgia in Sigh. She wore the same bright clothes as she had in Sigh excursion into memory but they were tattered and dusty, stains the color of rust ruining the fabric and her nails chipped and cracked. Her bare feet seemed to drift a centimeter off the ground and her long white hair hung like a lost cause down her back.

She had been crying. Sigh could hear the tears in her voice, sense the tracks on her face.

'Don't cry,' Sigh murmured blearily. 'Please don't cry.' A bitter smile climbed onto her face as she stood and shot back the last of her drink, turning the glass upside down on the desk like Madame used to. 'If anyone has reason to cry, it's me.' A helpless sob echoed in the air, Aisha covering her face with her hands. 'Aisha…' Sigh slowly approached, aware that any moment the vision would vanish as always and yet unable to ignore the woman's distress. 'Stop that…there's nothing you can do. It's…alright. I'm with Bibi. I'm alright-'

_Nimekuwa__kuuawa__wewe_ ...

Sigh lifted her hand towards the woman's face.

_Nimekuwa__kuuawa__wewe_ ...

She was so close. If Sigh could just touch her, just one, just assure herself of this reality…

_Mimi__kuuawa ve__MTOTO WANGU!_

Something in Sigh snapped at that moment, watching her mother's beautiful face whip into something cruel and monstrous. Sigh was not afraid; no, it was much too late for her to feel the same definitions of fear considering the strange path her life had chosen to take. Instead she gazed upon her mother's bestial form with something akin to fatalistic acceptance, hand already outstretched to summon her tumbler of liquor back to her side.

'...there's no point,' Sigh lamented slowly, trying not to smell the scent of brimstone and rotting hagenia flowers that seemed to appear from nowhere. 'There's no point to your guilt. It's empty, much like you are.' Aisha's jaw, unhinged in this form, unleashed a loathsome hiss. Sigh continued to speak anyway. 'You are a walking contradiction. You...you took everything from me to give me everything. You took everything that I was and expected me to be something else.' Sigh laughed sardonically, arms spread to gesture at their surroundings. Deaf to the world, Aisha's eyes glowed fire-red as opposed their usual serene brown as they trained themselves on Sigh.

'Do you like what you see, "mother"?' Sigh clipped. 'Do you like the lost girl your daughter has become? Do you like how broken you've left me with your "blessings"?' Sigh expected the woman's rage, a torrent of fire and wrath that Sigh dared to question the spell, this intricate hex of degenerative amnesia it had become clear Aisha had crafted.

'It stands to logic,' Mabaa had said, on one of the nights she made time to train and speak with Sigh. 'That she did this to you. Made your memories faulty until they vanished all together. It will be difficult if not impossible to regain what was lost.' She lifted the tea Sigh had made to her lips, ignoring her granddaughter's hiss of pain as her carefully summoned thorned ivy pricked her. 'Aisha was quite the gifted crafter of spells. Envied by witches, feared by demons, beautiful and powerful as is the way of any successful woman.' Mabaa's voice took on a nostalgic, almost woeful, tone as she spoke of her deceased daughter.

'It must be a failsafe she created to be triggered at her death. Or perhaps by a particular cause of death?' Mabaa gave a dark chuckle and Sigh immediately lost control of her spell. The tiny ivy quickly consumed the room with ethereal leaves, filling the air was a crisp and terrifyingly overwhelming scent. Mabaa remained secure in a spell of her own, a warped bubble of time and space she had crafted in mere seconds. Sigh was left to fend for herself amongst the thorns and the bramble of her mess.

'Careful dear,' Mabaa had drawled apathetically. 'You mustn't let anything distract you from your spelling.'

Sigh had hardly fallen asleep that night, a real hindrance when one considered she was expected at practice early the next morning. Her performances as Belladonna had gone better than anyone dared hoped they would. 'Something about this goddess of the stage,' gushed a critic in trashy local paper 'speaks of pain, passion, and promise. She is a delicacy made all the more delicious by Forbidden Fantasy's superbly surrealistic atmosphere and lovely hostesses. Five Stars.'

Forbidden Fantasy was calling in a crowd that it had never seen before. It wasn't long before Sigh started looking into extensions upon the building and even vaster improvements in the décor; furthering her bid for modernization. Things seemed to be looking up on the business perspective, with happy employees and massive profit.

If Sigh could only get her private life together, things would be golden.

She was careful not to blend personal and professional, a quagmire of disaster that Madam had long ago warned her against in the real world, but at times she simply found it too hard to face the day. Some mornings she just lay in bed, faking illness when Mr. Pop finally called her phone to wonder after her disappearance. It was simple enough to use him as a proxy in instructing the girls and the lost practice time could be made up later. Probably in the wee hours of the morning, when she couldn't sleep anyway. And then she could take a nice bottle of pinot grigio with her for her water breaks.

Sigh was pulled from her reverie by Aisha's sudden silence, the Wiccan once again switching from enraged poltergeist to mild haunt. The ghost, if she was real at all, seemed to be pondering Sigh's words, a pained look on her ectoplasm face and her pale hands worrying together. She no longer seemed capable of looking at Sigh, an unwillingness physically displayed by her eyes sinking into impossibly deep holes within her see-through skull.

'I…' her voice, when not speaking Swahili, was as heavily accented as one would come to expect. It gave her words a beautiful lilting quality and her gracefully deep voice was granted with wonderfully exotic articulations. Sigh suddenly knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that her biological mother was wonderful at singing lullabies.

'I love you,' Aisha finally choked out. 'You hate…me. So much. But…I love you.' Startled to silence, Sigh could only watch as Aisha began to fade from the toes up, hollow hole eyes never leaving the younger woman's face. 'Mama vile kutisha i kuwa...such a terrible mother I have become.' And she was gone. Sigh stood, dazedly watching the space her specter mother had once occupied, hand sweating against her warm bottle of alcohol. Stirred to frenzied movement, she was suddenly pulling Madam's large brown trench coat over her stained pajamas and filthy slippers, frizzed hair forced into a low bun that was tamed further by a headscarf.

She had to get out of here. Visiting hours weren't over at the hospital yet, were they? She could still get in, right? And maybe, if she looked just pathetic enough, they would let her spend the night? Lay her head on the side of Madame's bed and fall to fitful slumber? She had given up prayer long ago…but perhaps holding Madam's hand, her _real _mother's hand for a bit would be soothing.

It wasn't nearly as late as Sigh had told herself it was, the streets still holding the crowds of late afternoon and just beginning to become rife with shady night residents. Sigh blended perfectly with the scene as she took the back exit of Forbidden Fantasy and entered the sidewalk from an alley; most people would assumedly dismiss her as a squatter and ignore her appropriately.

She balled her hands into her pockets, glaring at those who dared to look her direction. She cut a hard corner and didn't bother waving at the fruit stand man who would occasionally allow her an apple for free. The desperate young woman tripped on the curb as she ran across the street and almost bowled into an adorable looking young couple, spinning sharply into a pirouette that was more skillful than she cared to show at the moment. She covered her mistake of grace by stumbling with faux clumsy into the nearby doorway of a building under construction. 'COMING SOON: A LAS VEGAS SEÑOR CHICK-CHICK!' the sign screamed and Sigh winced under the too-bright street light.

She suddenly felt much too weak to complete this trip, wanting to retreat back to her room that was really Madame's and drink the warm booze that while failing to get her drunk filled her with a warmth she felt so little these days. Yes, she should go back to her cave like a well-behaved creature of the dank, hide away from the sight of the world. Because there was no one left to see Sigh, no one who _wanted _Sigh_. _No one applauded the girl left behind as Belladonna bowed out and Rehema was snatched away.

She shook her head dizzily, retreating further into the empty frame that was allegedly to soon be filled with happy customers and gracious servers. It was pleasant to be away from the too bright world, from the tip-tapping feet and the glimmering smiles and wide eyes. Sigh hummed through her nose and let her lids fall to half mast, glancing back at the crowds she had left behind. Their mingling auras were better aligned, now, thanks to Bibi's training. They were no longer blobs but closer to clouds; maintaining a shape before slowly shifting into another. It was more beautiful than ever and when she pinched her fore and thumb she could snatch a crumb and use it for something terribly amazing.

Her head was suddenly snapped forward at a sound she felt didn't quite belong in the calm cool of the skeleton building.

A sob.

There, in the corner, a hunched over figure who was distinctly female and blonde, weeping heavily. Sigh's forgotten heart began to throb in empathetic pain at the young woman's desperate cries, and she found herself moving closer to the blubbering girl.

'Are you alright?' the mystery crier didn't answer but to sob harder, Sigh wincing as the woman broke a wail to start coughing painfully. 'Do you need help? Did someone hurt you?' Closer, Sigh could see telltale stains on what must have, at one point, been a lovely champagne-colored blouse. Beneath was a skirt that while shorter than Sigh approved of was still expensive looking and torn on several seams. 'Should I call the police?' Sex crimes and human trafficking were always heavy where people met to gamble and drink. Las Vegas was no exception and Sigh felt fury on the young woman's behalf. If they ever found who had done this to her… forget jail, Sigh would castrate the bastard.

A prickle of alarm ran down Sigh's spine as the girl's cries twisted and curled, becoming…laughter? Terrible, loud laughter. Sigh took a step back, muscles tensing beneath her skin as she allowed herself to see something she had been ignoring.

The young woman's aura.

Or, rather, the lack of it. A human without any aura? Was that even possible?

'You found me,' the woman finally spoke, throat still thick with tears. Her voice was bitingly familiar and much too calm for someone who seemed to be in the throes of a nervous breakdown. 'Or I found you. We found each other!' Sigh's eyebrows cinched together, magic tingling at her fingertips instinctually as the voice finally found a place in her mind.

'…Hyacinth?' The young woman cackled in response and Sigh held back the urge to retch as she was confronted with a stench like no other. Like rotten eggs. Weeks old corpses. A dream deterred.

No. That wasn't Hyacinth.

'Shit.'"


	17. Chapter 17

**BB says: **Update! I always apologize for updating so slowly and I will continue to do so. It drives me crazy when authors I'm following only publish like once a year and here I am, practicing hypocrisy. I'm sorry *bows*

On a side note, as of right now this story has 88 reviews. I'm sure Kid is very proud of me.

"Kid smoked. Not many people knew this, of course. He possessed an air of cool purity, of consistent perfection and a sense of adverse godliness that many found off-putting. His was an absolute physicality that was both terrifying and fascinating in its ability to be here and not. He was an existentialist vacuum, exuding no smell or presence save for what he granted and what was required of him. The acrid scent of tobacco seemed to have no place on his statuesque self and the angry embers flaking to the ground were an insult to the delicate ivory of the lips from which they fell.

Kid smoked. Kid had smoked before he met Liz and Patty, quit to get his human girls to do so, and picked it back up years later. He couldn't be addicted -his reaper body refused the addiction of nicotine and the poison of drug- but something failed to fall into place when he couldn't just let go. When he couldn't be flawed for an instant, _a single instant, _with the promise to himself that it was all wholly within his control. There was a certain victory to it, he thought, as it couldn't kill him and yet was doing him no favors. Those who smoked were given societal scarlet letters those days, when everyone was suddenly aware of how bad tobacco was for mortal lungs. Why would they smoke when it was killing them? Why would they endanger their lives and the lives of those around them by committing such an act?

_Power,_ perhaps. And if that was the true answer then Kid wondered why Black Star didn't smoke as well.

On another side of things, Kid rather enjoyed the taste. Something about the filmy burn that always teetered on the edge of making him ill and lingered on the back of his tongue for hours. The ashy grit he could feel gathering in his throat, the smog that fell lead-heavy in his lungs. He loved it like he loved the cruel acid of blackest-black coffee, the bite of his fingernails in his palms as he clenched his fists just a little too tightly.

There is something that lies in the existence of immortals, those who cannot be harmed easily, that makes them seek out pain. Kid saw this in himself, and he saw this in others. His father was found of pipes and only the sharpest alcohols. The sisters Graeae had tattoos in the strangest, most painful places; easily hidden and exotically beautiful.

They _lived. _He _lived. _Very little could wound them mortally but they were _alive, _damn it, and Kid smoked.

He opened his mouth like an unspoken invitation, watching dark clouds rise from his lips and disperse in the air. His tongue lapped to create a donut of smog and a little torpedo to launch through the center as he leaned on the railing of his private balcony. The moon was laughing, whether at him or the general folly of man he would never know. He narrowed his eyes all the same, and allowed the filter of his 'death stick' to fall from his fingers. He reached for another, frowning in confusion when he discovered not only the pack, but the entire carton was empty.

This discovery startled him and he blinked like he was fighting off a long sleep. Apparently, he had been here for hours. Watching the sky fade from azure to navy and black, the clouds transformed from the cottony sweetness of day to the furtive whips of night. His clothes assuredly reeked by now, the tips of his fingers stained yellow and his unblinking eyes dry.

Kid pulled himself up straight, wincing at the painless cracking of his back. He wondered if Liz and Patty were still awake, if they had eaten. He wondered if his father had returned home or was skulking about the city somewhere in one of his whimsical disguises. He wondered if Sigh remembered the lesser known constellations he had taught her on a night like this one, when she had worked late and he had been home to fuss and frown and smirk.

He could feel his father's restriction on his shoulders, much like the weight Atlas claimed to hold.

Kid had always been aware of the power he and his father shared, the pulsating push and pull that signified a common origin. He had always felt the twangs of heritage and potency; like the invisible way of the world was tuning some sort of instrument in the avatars of death. But now the comforting cord of shared might was like a harness about him. He was a struggling insect nailed in place, rewarded with a dizzying sense of loss when he pressed the boundaries of the city to move westward. Even gazing in that direction left him mildly breathless and somewhat nauseous. No such effect occurred to the North or the South or the East. He could potentially accept missions within those limitations. Three out of four is still not bad…right? Had the missions of these past few weeks not been very successful?

With every victory, however, his spirit worsened. His rage dulled to a simmer, consistent and pulsing through him like a poisoned river. He was _Death _and of all things he was _grounded. _Damn these victories, damn it all! He was doing nothing but playing his role as the obedient child, his wished placed at the bottom of a long list of priorities for his father. A selfish bitterness stirred in him. For though he knew Lord Death's duties were expansive and intricate he couldn't' help the sour taste in his mouth when he dared to consider that his longings were nothing but a trifle to the elder reaper.

The entire western hemisphere off limits to him now? How long? Because of one woman? Wasn't that silly? Simply _ludicrous?_ Was his father _happy now, _in all his petty punishment and his reserved ability to make his son kneel before him?

'Kid?' His eyes opened before he recognized he had closed them. Patty edged closer to her meister, joyful face solemn. 'Are you okay?' He nodded, accustomed to the dance of persuading his weapons into believing in his peace of mind. Patty looked at him suspiciously, big beautiful blue eyes narrowed accusatorially. The effect was adorable, nowhere near the scalding look of when she was really trying to bully him. It was almost as though she sensed something that needed her delicacy (or whatever could constitute as delicacy for one such as Patty).

'I'm fine.' His insistence sounded hollow.

'Yeah?' Her eyes narrowed further. Kid wanted to bark a laugh.

'Patty, I'm fine.' She joined him in gazing out and up, over the desert and the laughing moon. Her sweetcorn yellow hair was a tousled mess, floppy ears of her bunny slippers dragging on the ground behind her steps. Her sleep shirt was faded and soft from well use. It had been his once upon a time, before his body decided it was time to grow. One day he simply found he was an inch taller than Liz. The effect was dizzying and yet oddly satisfying. All the more so in the days to come, random spurts of height until he stood over half a foot taller than his tall weapon. He smiled at the memory of Liz's smirk, her acknowledgment that the brat from the alley finally looked like a man instead of a girl. Patty had laughed. Kid had rolled his eyes halfheartedly.

Just as he did now, as his younger weapon refused to leave his side.

'Sis says you're heartbroken,' Patty's nonchalant comment had Kid's eyes snapping to his weapon as she spoke. 'She's really convinced you are. I told her I wasn't even sure you could get heartbroken when it wasn't about order but she just wouldn't shut up about it. Came into my room to talk about it and everything.' Kid pursed his lips.

'Do you love her?' Kid closed his eyes, response instantaneous. 'Of course. I love both you and your sister. You're both beautiful.' He felt Patty's frustration and fought the smarmy smirk pulling at his lips. 'Don't be facetious,' Patty frowned. Kid applauded her perfect pronunciation of the word she had stolen from his vocabulary. She claimed to like the taste of it in her mouth. He wondered if it tasted like cigarettes and coffee to her. 'Do you love _Sigh, _Dumb-dumb?'

If Patty noticed how stiff Kid's shoulders had become, how his eyes were suddenly darting a bit too far west, she was kind enough not to mention it. '_That_ sort of love is a fallacy,' he said smoothly, suddenly aching for another cigarette. He knew Patty could smell them on him; her nostrils had twitched finitely when she came to stand beside him.

'It lacks precision and order and is therefore a terribly ugly thing. I am ugly enough without such an imperfection to mar me. So no, I do not love her.' Patty's face distorted in the moonlight, irritation quickly forcing her to lose her temper. Kid was certain she was going to snap at him in the 'special way' she had. That one where he wasn't necessarily afraid she would harm him as much he was afraid of letting her down. But this time Patty surprised him by allowing her face to cool into casual passivity.

'Is that so?'

'Yes.'

'You're sure?'

'Yes.' Funny. Kid was left less at ease with this cool Patty than the fiery wild one. He almost wanted to shake her up to get her to behave in a manner he knew how to handle.

'So I shouldn't tell you my news?' Kid raised an eyebrow, trying to glean something from the pistol's face. She kept it bland, a small, innocent smile playing at her lips. 'What news?'

'What I overheard. Lord Death was speaking to Maka and Soul and I, uh, caught wind of it.'

'…caught wind of it?'

'…a little birdy told me.' Kid clacked his teeth together before he could comment on her odd choice of analogies. 'What does that have to do with us?'

'There's something strange going on in Vegas. A demon that strikes at night, souls getting swiped, the usual. But more, the people on the streets seem to be in a sorta…trance, I guess. They just walk around, not really talking or interacting just…there. The only time that they show any sort of doing anything is when they come within a couple of meters of some place called,' Patty's eyes darted up to Kid's face, watching for a reaction. 'Forbidden Fantasy.' Kid fought to keep his gaze steady.

'Really?'

'Yeah. And more, there's alotta magic spilling all over. Just oozing in all directions. At first Maka and Soul are being sent to check on,' Patty's eyes flashed 'the source of all this chaos. Lord Death thinks Sigh's finally lost it.' Sensing the bubbling of fury begin in Kid's soul, Patty spoke quickly. 'But so far Lord Death just wants Maka and Soul runnin' recon. Black Star and Tsubaki are goin' as back up, of course. But they can't do nothin' until they know what's going on.' Kid couldn't help but plot the meaning of this plan.

Maka and Soul? They cared about Sigh. She was their friend. Lord Death couldn't believe Sigh was causing trouble in Vegas, nor did he have any intention of killing her; otherwise he would have sent an impartial third party, not poeple who was more likely to show mercy or to hesitate. In such a case, there must be an expectation that Maka and Soul, Black Star and Tsubaki, would make nonviolent contact with Sigh. They were close enough to her that she would feel comfortable with them, perhaps to reveal just what was going on in her hometown. Details that she seemed hesitant to share with the reapers.

The thought of her hiding from him once again had Kid on edge.

He quickly shook off his discontent.

Maka, Soul, Black Star and Tsubaki. All very powerful humans with experience in dealing with terrible evil. Sent on a mission to _talk_ to someone. What game was his father playing at?

'Is that it? Nothing else?' Patty tapped her chin. 'Ummmm…no.' Kid straightened his body, eyebrows cinching in the center. As good as she was at eavesdropping, it was highly unlikely that his father hadn't known the demon pistol was listening. Lord Death was a warrior and an immortal; he had centuries of survival, combat, and awareness to fall back upon. Even if she hadn't been physically visible the older reaper must have noticed her soul. And therefore knew that she had heard and would inevitably be bringing it to Kid. So what was the game here?

Unless…

His body shifted, gaze following the line of stars in the sky. Aries and Taurus were rising, Pisces setting, and he was looking westward. He took a deep breath, expecting illness, and receiving none.

_What will you do now, son?_

'Why?' he knew his father couldn't hear him, and knew that, even if he could, this is hardly the question he should be asking as it could easily be an answer he didn't like. But it fell from his lips in relief and the barest traces of caution. Lord Death had sent four of his most powerful agents. This was done in conjunction with lifting his burden upon his son, another powerful meister and, more so, an immortal. Perhaps the conclusion didn't need to be one of blood and terror.

But was something wrong? Did Death expect Kid to…_contain _her? As if in response, a gut lurching sensation hit him, alien from the previous feeling of restriction. It was…_chaos. _And the avatar of death and order found it repugnant. It struck him in the face, carried by the western wind. Was Sigh at its source?

Patty leaned closer, looking at Kid's face curiously as he was quiet for some time. 'Kid,' she placed a gentle hand on Kid's arm. 'Are you alright?' He shook his head.

'Patty,' he mumbled gently. 'When did you hear this?' For reasons beyond him she blushed and looked to the side. 'I…an hour ago.'

'I see. We should go. Wake up Liz.' He would ask her how long she and Zephyr had been seeing each other later.

'She's already getting dressed. I told her before I told you.' Kid looked at his younger pistol, the knowledge and the care that was so often hidden in misplaced mirth and laughter.

'Thank you.'"

There was a nasty cut on the side of the narrator's face, which her students found upsetting on a level they couldn't describe. Not that it was a disgusting thing –her face was already on the mend, looking to be still be a beautiful as ever at the end- but the fact that she had been absent for a week (leaving them to be temporarily merged into another class) only to returned injured, alarmed them. She refused to say where she had been, stating only that it had been something of a mission for Lord Death. In any case, she was jumpy and flighty all day, eyes fidgeting as though expecting the shadows to reveal foes and body tense to engage in combat. Perhaps more startling then her wariness was the look in her eyes. Her awareness was not equivalent to her fear; no, she seemed almost excited, eager.

It was exhilarating for her students as her contagious enthusiasm was caught by them. It was doubled by their deep feeling of offense; who dare attack their teacher and think they could get away with it? She had kicked their asses, no doubt. Many of her students would have paid good money to see their teacher at work, fighting in a way that none had witnessed firsthand but many had heard stories of.

She smiled a micro-smile, eyes still alight. A hand sat high on her lap, resting beside her belly, the other to her side to allow balance.

"'Are you afraid?' Sigh bared her teeth in what some may mistake as a smile. 'The fact you would ask proves you're not Hyacinth. Is there anything left of her in there?' Hyacinth's eyes were hollow, the whites stained as red as the blood on her teeth. As red as the miasmic form her aura had taken, spewing poison. It flickered darkly, twisting in on itself and rebounding, creating the illusion of an absence of form. It made Sigh sick.

Hyacinth coughed a laugh; the tatters of what once have been an expensive and very fashionable sun dress swaying with the jerking motion of her body. Mustard gold then (as it was a nasty rust red now) it had once matched the locket at her throat. The terrible accessory was glowing hot red in the hollow beneath Hyacinth's windpipe, the smell of singed flesh hanging in the air. 'Of course she is!' Her voice heavily amused, the combination of two voices from one source. One was definitely the high of Hyacinth, the other the unearthly baritone of another. 'That's what makes her so malleable!' The monster grinned and the pinpricks of its pupils widened like a lens. 'Most of my hosts have disintegrated by now, their souls falling apart like rotten paper. But not her! Not my sweet, _**beautiful**_,' it took a deep breath nostrils flaring. 'Marrrrryyy.'

There was a lot of power in one's real name. With that an piece of hair or a drop of blood extreme hexing was made possible. Sigh winced, fists tightening.

Hyacinth…Mary…

'It's funny,' the demon kept speaking. 'You are so desperate to save her and yet she wants to kill you so badly! The whole world could burn and I doubt the little fool would be any the wiser. Perhaps she would rejoice in it? For all this time together, all this time her aura has been staring you down and you never once sensed just what she was in the deepest crevice of her soul. The woman you see now is naught but what she wished to be! _**POWERFUL AND LOVELY**_.'

'NO!' Sigh snapped back. 'Hyacinth is a good person! A little dopey and a little moody. But she's still _good._' The demon clucked their tongue. 'You know, Daughter, it's that way thinking that's going to make it so easy to be rid of you. Like your mother.' With a roar of fury, Sigh leapt forward. For this monster had not taken one mother from her, but two.

The streets had long cleared from their first bout, steaming craters littering the sidewalk. Shattered glass glowed up from the ground. Bent street lights flickered dangerously. Surrounding buildings suffered scorch marks and broken walls. From a distance, it was possible to hear the approach of sirens.

But worse than the clearing streets and the rubble of the buildings was the encroaching atmosphere that only thickened as the fight continued. The more their magics collided and the more mana was exerted, the more corrupted the very air seemed to be. Everything was twisted through a lens of chaos and reality altering magic. Everything was suddenly bright colored and rubbery in appearance, still crumbling like porcelain but shuddering like glowing gelatin in the same instant. It was dizzying for Sigh, her stomach lurching and her aura arching as it encountered the aspects of itself that allowed it to bend the laws of nature in such a way. It felt so right she almost wept. But the girl who had been raised by humans knew that this wasn't good.

Sigh had chosen to use her fists after a burst of magic threatened the lives of the retreating civilians. Aura was twisted into thorny vines about her arms and legs, granting even greater strength and speed. It was hard going. Hyacinth or whoever she was now had the ability to destroy her constructs; Sigh had about three blows for each weapon before it would shatter, hardly fazing her opponent. Truth be told, she was tiring. And without living material around her, that which larger cities tend to lack, she could not recuperate her magic quickly.

She shouldn't have allowed herself to get distracted by her thoughts. She barely dodged a powerful blow from her opponent, one that shook the air and popped her ears as she ducked to the side. 'Come on now, don't be shy,' the demon cooed. 'I may look a little different now but I'm still Baba Djinn. You've grown to be such a beautiful young lady; Mama would be proud. When you're reunited in Hell you can tell her how you failed to kill me. And how pointless her death was.' Sigh grit her teeth, unwinding one of the ribbons of nettles from around her arms to lash out like whips.

'Djinn, Mama never wanted me to kill you,' Sigh ground out, twisting her body when then the demon dodged, using her other whip to strike. The bagel shop concaved as the dense body made contact. Once the demon was down, Sigh relentlessly slammed her weapons into it repeatedly, kicking up dust. 'She wanted me to forget you. To _move on_. And I will. Once you're just a nightmare I've erased. I'm going to rip you out of Hyacinth and-' one of her whips stopped in motion.

When she tried to rip it free, she noted how it was no longer the crystalline glow that marked her magic but was quickly turning a dark bloody mud color. Gasping as it hooked into her arm painfully, she was yanked towards the devastated building. She had hit her opponent so hard what was left of the sundress was gone. A few of the lights in the building dangled from torn wires, the counter was a memory made of marble rubble. Sigh was slammed to the ground by her own weapon turned against her, grabbed by the hair and hefted into the air to dangle.

Anything that once marked Hyacinth as a woman was gone. She was balding at an accelerated rate, her teeth were sharpened fangs. Her breath reeked of sickness, her eyes wide and dark red. She no longer had breasts or curves to be covered by the bra and panties clinging to her for dear life and her fingers were talons in Sigh's scalp. And all through it all the mouth of the possessed woman was a smile. 'Remove me from this body?' Djinn slammed Sigh's head into a table before bringing her back up again. 'It would fall to pieces without me to hold it together.' He slammed her again. So hard Sigh could hear her brain rattle in her skull. 'Can you do it, Honey? Can you kill one of your precious people? If you don't fight with intent to kill you're destined to lose.'

Defiant, Sigh hefted her leg to slam her still-wrapped shin into the side of Djinn's head. The aura shattered and though Sigh was too high on adrenaline to feel much of the pain, she heard the bone in her leg fracture. Irritated, Djinn punched her solidly in the gut.

Okay, Sigh _felt _that.

Several ribs on her left side caved and cracked as she choked on the air meant to fuel a cry of pain. Bile, blood, and saliva filled her mouth to drip down her chin as Djinn allowed her to fall forward onto his arm, fist still embedded in her waist. Faces close enough for Sigh's startled gaze to see what had once been the pretty blue of Hyacinth's eyes, Djinn breathed a faux frustrated sigh. 'I wish you would listen to Daddy.' He let her fall and Sigh collapsed to the floor. Training had her rolling to her front trying to regain her stance. Shattered ribs slowed her dramatically.

'You're holding back,' Djinn commented somewhere above her head. Her response was to cough a glob of blood onto the ground. 'You really don't want this body to die…although I've made it clear it's going to anyway. Everything does. My goodness, has no one taken the time to teach my child in my absence? After your mother trapped me in this damned locket, I had hoped she would have tasked someone _reliable _to your care. No matter.' A foot slammed into Sigh, catching her on her broken ribs and sending her flying back out onto the street.

'Once I kill you and destroy your soul, I can finally be at peace. I mean, it would all end. I don't even need to feed so often, you know, when I'm not confined to this bloody locket. Maybe once, twice every decade. Just two people a decade! And aside from that, these monkeys are free to live their lives. It's not like I'm some sort of glutton.

It didn't have to be this way, you know. If not for that fool Oshun, maybe you could just live your life. I wouldn't care. But see, I can't have you killing _me_. I am Djinn. I grant wishes. I make people _happy. _And if that happiness ends with their death, well, at least they were happy before dying. Not many can say that, you know, and nothing comes without a price.' To Sigh's horror, a tendril of Djinn's miasmic aura launched itself forward to entangle with hers. She quickly severed off that part of her essence, gurgling on a gasp of pain. It was like chewing off one of her fingers.

'Your mother didn't see things me way, of course. And once she saw my true self she fled. I couldn't have cared less that she took you with her aside from, of course, those terrible threads of fate.' Dark magic seeped from Hyacinth's eyes and nose. The air was heavy and acrid with it. Sigh was struggling just to breathe. 'All I want is to grant wishes. It's my nature, daughter. I am a predator, but not one that should be of concern. It's just the food chain in action. It's not fair to lump me in with that man Asura, a rabid animal to be put down.'

Sigh was dropping in and out of consciousness. Desperation had her siphoning off the only source of aura her sense could find. Djinn was like poison in her system, burning her from the inside out. She could feel herself roasting alive. 'Although, we were very good friends. Neither of us had the intestinal fortitude to eat the other, so the threat of betrayal was but a shadow. A part of me thinks he stole my ideals. People crave madness. It combats fear. But more than that, madness gives us _**courage**_. The courage to pursue that which we _**desire**_ regardless of the consequences. We no longer dream of terrors to come because even if they did, one could possess the means by which to destroy them. Understand? We need power, _**desire**_, _and_ madness to truly be free! I can give it all to them! All!'

'KUJA KWANGU!**' **_Dionaea muscipula_ react to movement and touch. So even as Djinn dodged the first room-sized venus fly trap the second swallowed him whole. This was unlike the spells before. Magic corrupted by madness and sin, Sigh's plants were vivid red, oozing black pus to drip and burn and like acid. No matter. Djinn burst from within, looking bored. 'Would you listen to me? I thought kids liked to hear their Babas tell stories?' Sigh used the smoldering remains of her giant plants to launch a side attack. Djinn grabbed her leg, slamming her to the ground, front and back, side to side, tossing her about like a toy before releasing her to smash into a car.

'Well, if you're not going to sit still and listen I supposed it's time to end the lesson.' His footsteps padded on the silent street, the only noise for miles. Sigh wondered where the police were, grateful they had not arrived. The best normal humans could do right now is become fodder. 'Send your mother my regards. Oh! And tell her I never forgot our anniversary. I just didn't care.' Sigh was going to die here, then?

'GENIE HUNTER!' The large scythe slammed into Djinn with three times the force of a speeding double decker bus. Djinn blocked, but was still sent flying several meters. 'Sigh? Sigh! Are you alright?' Sigh's left eye was swollen shut but she twitched her right open. 'Maka? Wha?' Maka set out a relieved sob but didn't drop her defensive grip on Soul. 'Lord Death sent us! I'm so glad we made it in time! Just hang tight. This will be over in a few minutes and we're going to get you some help.'

'M-Maka. Wait. He's-'

'Not even close to being as strong as a star like me! YAHOOOOO!' Black Star's entrance was much more graceful then his loud screech suggested, alighting on his feet with a wild grin. 'Me and Tsubaki are gonna rip this guy to shreds. He'll dread the day he lifted a hand against the Mega-Mighty Black Star and the less-then-mighty Maka!' Maka's hand twitched, itching to hit her comrade but unwilling to let go of Soul at the moment. 'Let's just get this over with, you idiot,' she hissed instead, sending him an annoyed look. 'Yeah,' Soul sounded bored. 'I want to enjoy a little Vegas before we have to go back.'

'Why?' Sigh suddenly felt every pain as she looked up at her friends, hand coming to rest on her side. She didn't want to hold it - afraid touch could bring more pain- but she could feel blood oozing from somewhere vital within. 'Why are you guys…what are you doing?'

Maka sent a smile over her shoulder. 'I told you, Lord Death sent us. And you're our friend, you dork.' Touched though she was, Sigh couldn't help the alarms that were set off by Maka's words. This wasn't your average monster they encountered; this was her sire, a demon that inspired the creation of some of the more terrible stories in the Arabian nights, a beast that mothers once told their children about to warn them of the dangers of the dark. He was able to kill Sigh's birth mother, a woman that was believed to be the most powerful magic caster of her generation. He had survived eons of demon hunters and madness, growing fat off hatred and fear as he awaited his chance to rise. And here her friends were, people she had barely known two years, fighting for her life like the threat to theirs was a fair trade.

But they couldn't be allowed to interfere. It was forbidden by fate itself; no, not the sisters Graeae. An ancient magic, a master teller who lived in blind solitude in the wilderness of Africa, the cradle of all life.

_Na ingawa mtoto kupambana hatma yake _[and though the child may fight her fate]

_Basi, kuwa na milele inayojulikana _[all is ever known]

_Kwa kamwe wawili kutembea dunia hii _[for two may never walk this earth]

_All kidogo kwa ajili ya damu na mfupa _[all less of blood and bone]_._

Oshun had predicted that only Sigh could kill her father. That suggested that all others were destined for defeat at the monster's hands. And Sigh knew that defeat would mean a fate worse than death. She fought to pull herself form the indent her body had created in the car, wincing as broken bone and bruises ground together, blood oozing free from her injuries. In the end it was too much for her to stand. She wound up on her hands and knees before the pavement rushed up to kiss her.

Maka was much stronger than she looked. Upon meeting her, she seemed like a wiry girl with a small chest and long limbs that made her almost appear spider-like. Her skinny arms and legs were accented by feet and hands that seemed too big for her little frame and her huge green-brown eyes were doeish and innocent. She was hardly what anyone would deem to be a threat, much less a kishin who could grow to several stories for intimidation's sake, or a djinn that was sweating chaos and mayhem from every pore.

But Maka was all physical muscle and strength of spirit, all grit and effort that compounded into bodily scars and mental hardening. Maka Albarn was a bad bitch, to put in basic terms, and when a woman can stand as equals with a grim reaper and a wannabe god of war she can officially claim such a title.

All of her weight was thrown into killing the demon before her, strength that she had not yet mastered at the time of the kishin rising. If only, she heard a younger voice within her sighing, if only she had been this powerful when Chrona had needed her. Maka still thought about her quiet friend on peaceful nights. The moon had been black for several months after Chrona's sacrifice, and there was a fear that they would be subjugated to a perpetual New Moon phase in exchange for tamed madness. But even when the moon cleared there was less celebration as much as a frantic search, a fear that the kishin had somehow escaped his prison once again and was rampant on the earth.

One year.

Two.

Three.

And nothing. A party was sent back to the moon, exhausting resources and technology they had only just mastered just to be sure that humanity's greatest foe to date was down. It took them a few days, but finally they discovered a black dot. Roughly the size of a thimble, those who attempted to lift it from the ground not only claimed it was absolutely impossible to budge, but also went mad within twenty-four hours. For all intents and purposes, the kishin was trapped within what Stein proclaimed to be dark matter, and unless Asura suddenly gained the ability to exert the equivalent of several stars worth of power he would be ever imprisoned.

And _then _they celebrated. So hard that Lord Death decided to change the date of the Commemoration Celebration. No longer held Christmas Eve, it would be November 1st; the day that Shibusen could claim it had succeeded in a primary objective. There would ever be madness in the world –every good must have an evil to balance it, for symmetry is true beauty- but the master of madness was out of their hair.

Maka too, had celebrated, but it was bittersweet and painful. For the kishin was trapped forever; but so was Chrona. Maka had failed in a way that she feared the most and though her dream of becoming a powerful meister seemed all the more legitimized, her goal of protecting the ones she loved seemed tenuous.

Never again, she had sworn, never again would she be subjected to this pain. She promised the soul of the Chrona that she would allow no one else she held dear to fall.

So there could be no leeway when it came to Djinn, no mercy. Maka shut everything down, allowed the warrior that she held so close to the surface of who she was to take control. Her blows were precise and mean. She had never known the husk body that this monster now wore, and she could not see the seam where the host and parasite souls could be separated. They circled each other like Siamese sibling stars, the more powerful, darker twin draining the other dry. She could try to exercise the demon with genie hunter, but this was so different than anything she had ever seen, she couldn't honestly say whether or not she could do so without killing whatever was left of the young woman. A part of her whimpered in pity. But that part had to be squashed quickly.

Exercise the demon. Deal with consequences after.

And as she swung Soul and cleaved through burned, leprosy riddled flesh, leaving the body unharmed but scooping out the rotten soul, she grit her teeth and hoped the wobbly, watery, soul that was left would survive."


	18. Chapter 18

**BB says: **It's dangerous to go alone! Take this!

"'YAHHOOOO! I told you! Stupid-ass Djinn! No one can withstand the awesome might of Black Star! TAKE-THAT!' Maka smiled at her blue haired friend as he retold the story of one of their adventures. They were all getting older now, sitting around one of the newer Death Bucks that had popped up in San Francisco. They were on a reconnaissance mission together, having reached the level within Shibusen where they were only called into battle for emergency situations. Maka was grateful to be able to work with her old school friends again; Black Star and Tsubaki had been stationed in South America for the past two years, and Death the Kid had taken over as official grim reaper in Death city, so he was always busy. It was rare they could get together anymore.

'And you know what happened as the Stupid-Djinn fell into bits of shit or whatever?' At almost thirty-five, Black Star could still startle an audience to silence. The hipster youth and the tolerant older people sitting around at Death Bucks at two in the afternoon were a pliant peanut gallery. 'What?' Asked a man who looked to be near sixty, with a pot belly and very many tattoos. California could crank out the most interesting people.

Black Star grinned.

'He said "you fools! I cannot be defeat by _children! _I am unbeatable! I am a God!" So I said "That proves that I am a far better God! Maybe your tears will put out fires in HELL!' Several people grinned gamely at the ending and there was a bit of awkward applause before everyone turned back to their own lives. Maka sighed quietly. Shibusen was getting more and more official recognition by civilians in recent years. She supposed this was to be expected after the global kishin phenomenon of her teen years, ripe in people's minds even during the Djinn crisis in Vegas.

More and more magically dangerous individuals seemed to be threatening the world, and the only people trained to deal with such things were at her school. Not to say that competition wasn't growing elsewhere; there were rumors of demon weapon schools in England and Russia, with a training program being offered at certain Asian preparatory schools. However, none of their graduates were quite on the level of a true-blue Shibusen student. Maka and those like her were in high demand, leading to a mass influx of generous donations from the United States government as well as organizations within Canada and Mexico in hopes of gaining a foot in the school's policies.

Poor politicians didn't know who they were dealing with. Lord Death who had once been Death the Kid didn't play any sort of favorites. Balance was key.

The point of Maka's reverie was to remind herself of the expanding world of humanity. People were more aware of magic then they had been in centuries, a change that both pleased and alarmed Maka. It had certainly led to more missions stopping wannabe witches and sorcerers than she cared to talk about. Normal citizens who had somehow come across a random artifact and thought they knew how to harness its power simply from running an internet search. Or found out that their great-great whoever was a witch or a sorcerer or an alchemist and thought that they should try their hand at an art that had been lost to their family for decades. Bad juju for all involved.

On the flipside, more awareness also allowed people better means to protect themselves. Most people now understood that there really were things that existed simply to hurt them. There were cursed objects out there and no, holy water and salt weren't always enough. They lived in an ambiguous world of ignorance and knowledge.

Maka closed her eyes as Black Star started another story.

Soul laced his fingers with hers, using his other hand to stroke the pigtails on the head of their third grandchild.

'I remember when your hair was this color,' he said in that gruff way she had known for almost sixty years. His eyes were still that bright raspberry red, his silver hair dimming to more of a grey. 'It's so uncool how old you've gotten-' Maka didn't mean to use her granddaughter's baby book in a Maka-chop. Honestly. It just sort of worked out that way.

'Shut-up. You're no spring chicken either.' Soul rubbed the bump on his head. He looked at his wife introspectively for a moment, red eyes calculating, and then soft.

'Sigh.' Maka jumped, brows creasing together.

'What? Why did you say your action out-loud like that?' A confused look overtook Soul's face. 'Like what? I was just sighing.'

'You said it like a noun. Don't do that.'

'Why not?'

'It's a verb, not a noun. Don't disrespect grammar in front of Becca. I don't want her picking that up.'

'I wasn't disrespecting anything! And she's asleep! I can't believe you want to fight over this!'

'It's not a fight! It's-' Maka shook her head in mild irritation. 'We're so old we're arguing about nonsense.'

'That what old couples do. That's how you know you've made it.' Maka looked out over the horizon, watching the setting sun. Soul always had the ability to disengage fight mode with something spontaneously sweet. They'd had such a good life together. They had done everything they had ever wanted, had seen more then she had ever expected, become Shibusen heroes and a meister-weapon duo that few could contend with. It was…it _was…_enough. Their lives were so sweetly _enough._

'Shut-up, Soul.'"

Tar lifted his ears in a way privy to dogs and the storyteller paused to gaze out at whatever it was that had caught the mutt's attention. His tail took up a hesitant wag and her gaze seemed to lock. The students in the front row twisted backwards to see what had caught her attention. A flash of confused irritation crossed her face and she worried her full bottom lip as her eyes narrowed. She seemed to be on edge, mild shakes wracking her body and hallows under her eyes.

Her symptoms had been noticed during class earlier but they hadn't affected the lessons, so few had minded them. She moved as easily as ever, laughed like the world was golden, and ate like a baby dinosaur. But it seemed to be getting worse now that they had her in the sun. With the sun beating down on her back and the air hot and dry, her body seemed to be illusively wavering.

Tar's tail grew spastic, indicating surprised happiness as he and his mistress gazed into the crowd. "Of course that wasn't you," the odd woman muttered to herself. "It better _not _have been. I'll _end you,_ asshole." Before anyone could ask what she was talking about, she had huffed, fluffed her skirt and continued the story.

"Sigh blinked her eyes back open, refusing the pain and the oblivion her body threatened to sink into. Her eyes widened as she watched Maka land the final blow, the body of Hyacinth falling limply to the side. Anything resembling an aura had been stripped from her, her eyes wide open but sightless. Sigh's stomach dropped, and she pushed her body upwards onto shaking knees, biting her tongue against the wailing of her ribs and the bruises on her body. She somehow managed to limp over to Hyacinth where she lay on the ground.

Closer, it was possible to see the slow rise and fall of the hollowed chest, feel the warm air rushing shallowly from her gaping mouth. Everything else seemed to fade to the background, as focusing seemed to be Sigh's only hope of maintaining consciousness.

'Hyacinth,' Sigh whispered. 'Hyacinth. Can you…are you?' Sigh startled as a weak hand latched onto her wrist, Hyacinth's misty eyes fighting to find her face. 'Sigh,' her voice croaked, tears bubbling over. 'Sigh…I'm sorry…_Sigh_…' Sigh shook her head. 'Don't talk, okay? We're gonna to get you help. He can't hurt you anymore. He's gone now and you're gonna be oka-'

'Forgive me. Please, please, forgive me,' Hyacinth begged breathlessly. 'Say it. Please, say it. So at least…at least you do. I don't wanna…don't let him take my soul…'

Sigh's hand clutched Hyacinth's. 'Of course I forgive you! We all do! It's alright! You're gonna be alright! No one's taking your soul. It's _yours, _do you hear me? It's _yours _because you're gonna be fine! Hyacinth, wake up! Wake up you idiot! I'M TALKING TO YOU!'

Sigh had never seen a soul before. But the little glowing ball, bobbing just above Hyacinth's empty body seemed to wave at her, a forlorn gesture that mirrored misfortune. Any aura that had once encased Hyacinth's body was now focused within that small orb, emanating like heat waves. 'Hyacinth…I wanted to save you…so bad…' Sigh's vision blurred and she bit her lip against her distress.

She had never been that close to Hyacinth. They never had much in common, and Sigh tended to keep to herself most of the time rather than risk a high-maintenance friendship. But something about seeing it end for someone, much less someone she had known so long, felt _wrong. _There seemed to be so much more for Hyacinth to live for. She had been so _young_.

Barely in her twenties, a child compared to the heavy age sitting on Sigh's shoulders. Perhaps the trauma of her death was more in the terrible distortion of what life was. Her past and her future, her dreams and goals, all deleted in a single moment. Death loses not a body, but everything that body has ever been and has ever known. And Sigh understood this, intimately, for the first time, as she slouched above Hyacinth's cooling form.

Sobs were just beginning to erupt as a presence not appeared beside her.

'Well that's annoying. Are you going to cry? I hate weepy women.' Eyes blowing wide, Sigh felt disgust and fury run up her spine at the sound of his voice. Right in her ear, shoulders touching as he too looked down at Hyacinth's body.

She supposed her father was a handsome man. His face was broad and square shaped with multiple gold piercings that seemed to be placed in a ritualistic manner. His eyes were glowing platinum with the shock of a deep, black pupil in the center. His gaze was strangely calming. Almost kind, had she not known what a monster he was. His hair was wool-thick and colored a shocking, wicked, miasmic purple that was only slightly different from his daughter's. His massive chest was covered in ancient runes and symbols that seemed to have been burned into his coffee dark flesh with a hot tool. He was a large man –even kneeling beside her she could see that he was almost 200cm- and one of his arms was easily the muscle of two of hers.

His arms.

He had four arms, bands burned into his skin near the shoulder and bracelets of gold on his wrists. They reminded her of broken shackles. He smiled gently at her, a hand lifting to catch one of her escaped tears on the tip of a surprisingly gentle finger.

Yes, her father was almost a handsome man.

'Daddy is sorry it has to be like this, Pumpkin,' he continued smiling, the hand on her face skimming across her cheek to bunch in her hair roughly. Sigh was too shocked to fight him as her gaze flew from Hyacinth to Djinn, frantically searching for Maka and Black Star, Tsubaki, and Soul. 'B-but…I saw…I saw her _kill you!_' Djinn's smiled grew monstrously wide, his teeth much too white as his fingers tensed in Sigh's hair. She heard a few strands rip free of her scalp. 'No, Ducky, you saw her _exercise_ me. I thought it would kill me, but I _knew_ it would kill Mary. Poor thing. You should have told your friends not to be so eager. Now look what they've done!'

'What did you do to them?' her body finally waking up, Sigh clasped her hands about her father's massive wrist as he twisted her head to gaze at their surroundings. Her friends were gone but the scent of fresh magic remained, hard and heavy on her palate. 'I granted their _**wishes**_, as is my nature. The Blonde and the Silverback together forever, vomiting out fond memories and well-wishes. It makes me ill, but to each their own, I suppose. The Blue Tool is God in his mind at least. And the Spineless Brunette is allowed to be his perpetual stepping stool. I gave them all that they _**wished**_ for, the lives they want, up until the _**end**_.'

'The end?' Sigh was whipped around to see her father's smile now reached his ears. 'Yes, my Brilliant Poppy. When people die in their _**dreams**_, they die for_** real**_. Haven't you heard that before? Same law for my specially crafted dream worlds.' A flick of the wrist had Sigh careening through the air, smashing through brick and cement. She struggled back to her feet in time to see her father reaching for Hyacinth's fragile little soul.

'No…'

Lifting it to his mouth, to that awful smile.

'Don't…'

Opening wide, wide enough for Sigh to see just how empty of an abyss the man was.

'DON'T YOU DARE!' She heard Hyacinth screaming as Djinn's teeth came down like he was biting into an apple.

The howl that ripped free of Sigh's throat was monstrous. Her pain was momentarily forgotten as she climbed to her feet, teeth bared like she was going to rip out his throat with her canines. This was it. She was going to kill him. She was destined to kill him; anyone else would just die, would be taken from her and it would be her fault for not doing her duty. Had she not seen enough? Who else did she have to lose before she would understand that only her death could sate the beast before her?

Anything. All she wanted was power and she would give anything for it. Just to be able to rent his body in twain, rip out his soul and crush it into dust. He would burn as she toppled mountains, boiled seas, burned the sky with her fury. The power could feed on her if it chose; devour her from within like a disease. Just give her that last breath to see the smile torn from his face, to see horror and agony in his eyes.

'I'LL DRAG YOU TO HELL!'

Kid's eyes widened as the sensation of dangerous energies surging became enough to induce temporary vertigo. Faster! He had to go faster! Beezlebub roared at full speed but it still didn't feel like enough.

'Kid, did you feel that?' Liz asked uneasily. 'It felt like…like…'

'They're ripping the world apart!' Patty interjected, voice all seriousness.

The further they traveled the more fallible the air seemed, the further into chaos and nightmares they seemed to fall. Kid had to grit his teeth against the chaos, against the brazen affront to order that fell over his mouth and nose, suffocating him. The hair on the back of his neck was on end and the shadows that had followed him since birth, waiting to bind together and become what would be his true reaper cloak, stirred agitatedly at the edges of his vision.

'It's awful,' he ground through clenched teeth. 'So _ugly._' So this was what a Djinn felt like. A blight on the world, screaming for correction. A Great Old One forgotten to time and terror, used to frighten children in the Middle East and to fascinate those of the west. A being bending reality at a whim, regardless of consequences. Everything in him wanted to destroy it. Wanted to erase it so completely it would be like the travesty had never existed at all. Something that so blatantly defied everything he stood for could _never _be tolerated.

But…

What if he made it there, only to discover it wasn't what he thought it was? Only to discover that Sigh had become a monster?

Reaper logic –_instinct-_ told him to kill her. Old Yeller. If she's rabid, put her down. That was his job, no? His birthright?

Ah. If only it could be so simple.

What awaited him deep in Las Vegas was unlike anything he had ever seen before, and Kid was ashamed to admit he had frozen at the sight. The streets near the edges seemed to be carrying on normally, with buzzing people and places. But the closer he traveled to the center, the more the city deadened. The streets ran bare of lives, neon lights winked down at no one, trash littering the road despite the fact that the trashcans were still empty.

They had left in a hurry.

The epicenter of the city had become a colorful menagerie of bending shapes and beating hearts, flexing and breathing like it was alive. It reminded him of the cartoons of old, the rubber-hose settings and characters, a Toon Town brought to life. It was awful and terrific and all shades of vomit and bile. A police line had been hastily created, nervous looking officers shooting new information back and forth and looking rather lost.

"Perhaps we should wait another few minutes…"

"…no chance against freaks like those…"

"…like when that crazy demon was making everyone insane…"

Kid winced at the officer's lack of faith and yet blended into the shadows to slide past their line. He was not here to rekindle their confidence, not this day. No, he was here to end this and save lives.

The two djinn parried and collided viciously, wild male laughter echoing as chaos magic continued to rip holes in the world. Noxious mana oozed from rips in the air, crawling from a realm of horrors. The air twisted and pulsed, Sigh's plants springing forth but mad twins of their former purity; all blood and pus, fire and brimstone. The air about them seemed to sizzle and spit like water on hot cement, destruction an element of osmosis in their sap. They reflected the terrible transformation that seemed to have overcome Sigh in this battle and Kid felt his heart plummet ever further.

Aside from her physical appearance –Sigh had somehow sprouted another pair of arms, her mist-like eyes glowing with dangerous magic and her teeth revealed in a snarl- it was her _soul _that gave him pause_. _That lovely soul that he had become so fond of, the soul that had attracted him so fearsomely, was wavering. It seemed to be caving in on itself, devouring its own energy like a star collapsing into a black hole. Every spell, every blow she struck, seemed to take a little more, peeling its layers like a banana. Kid was afraid. Afraid for that suddenly delicate soul, for those pocks and dimples that weren't supposed to be there. Was Sigh aware of what she was doing? Was she in there anymore? Was he too late?

All Sigh saw was red. And she couldn't tell if it was her blood or her father's, her magic or his, or maybe it was the screaming of her aura echoing in her ears. Because it was one of those rare moments where she could see her own essence and it was _struggling. _Ragged at the edges, recoiling against her body like it was frightened but forced again and again to fuel her spells. And the _pain. _It was beyond physical. It was…_everything. _And nothing at the same time. Like grasping the sun, basking in the light and relishing in the agony as it seared through one's fingers. Such beautiful pandemonium. Glorious destruction.

Djinn's damned laughter echoing in her ears.

'That's my _**girl**_! Coming up to bat!'

'Awww! Look! She has Daddy's _**arms**_!'

'Look at that _**angry**_ little snarl!'

But Sigh could see it. She could see his blows growing in strength, could see his movements becoming more frantic, more defensive. Was she winning? Maybe. Was she dying? Probably. Wasn't everyone? Let them. Let the world fall into the delicious chaos is craved. Was her father correct? Perhaps this is what everyone wanted in the end. To _burn._

_Oh fallible world, this land that I hate, I shall devour you and make you less then myself._

She honestly couldn't tell if she was smiling or sneering or some terrible menagerie of both as visible mana seeped from her mouth and throat, choking her on herself.

She had never wanted to die spectacularly. No, no, there needn't be a fuss. She thought she would like it to happen somewhere quiet. Maybe she would crawl into an old barn somewhere and fade away like the stray cat she was. Where no one would find her or perhaps not one would look. Something inhuman, because that's what she was. Not human.

She heard screaming. She looked down and saw an arm in her hand, the ragged red end hanging into the air. Djinn grasped his bloody stump, staring at his child like she was something new. Sneering, Sigh tossed the arm aside. 'I'm sorry,' her voice was gravelly, dangerous and barely teetering on the edge of sanity. 'Do you need a hand?'

He smiled. 'You're _**terrible**_. _**Vindictive**_. My beautiful little _**monster**_.'

'Fuck you.'

'Your mother did already.' Sigh shouldn't have gotten distracted by his taunting. As she opened her mouth for a response teeth clamped onto one of her extra arms, wrenching it free of her body before she could even squeak. The dragon was composed of black mist and reeked of failed dreams. Arm for an arm? Touché. The beast looked her in the eyes as it swallowed, and she fancied it could see her although it was nothing but a construct. It had hardly vanished when it reformed into a beam of sheer dark magic. Her skin singed, hair burning. The entire left side of her face bubbled, and though she could feel her magic working to fix the damage, her now lidless eye watching her father slam his heel into her body.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

By the fourth time she swore she felt one of her lungs crawling up her throat. She prepared to roll, to catch his foot, to do anything but lie in this crater and wait for his power to come down again.

He flew backwards off of her roughly, caught by an all too familiar flash of pink light.

'You know, if you two are going to be flinging around disorder like this, then you must be prepared to face the wrath of an angry reaper.' Kid was frowning deeply, boiling fury emanating from him as he stepped down (how hard had Djinn been hitting her? Perhaps it was best if she didn't think about it) to stand beside Sigh.

She was surprised as the sudden easing of pressure on her senses. The world seemed to clear when his massive aura, a presence she had been unknowingly ignoring as it approached, reentered her vision. She longed for it to embrace her like it would sometimes do suddenly, for Kid to touch her heated face with his cool fingers. Almost too eagerly she felt herself pull at his essence, taking a bit into herself. Just enough to heal her skin and bones a little, to be able to pull herself up to her knees.

'What's this?' When Djinn rose to his feet his arm was reattached, head cocked to the side curiously. 'A reaper? To what do I owe the honor?' Kid didn't hesitate to hit Djinn again, Death Needle striking the demon further back and through Bob's Discount Lingerie. Kid somewhat knew what to expect. A Djinn gained their powers by granting the wishes of others. They ran on the desire and the corruption that was posited by the wishes, dessert being the victims souls at the end as they rotted away in the world of their deepest desires.

Judging from the fact that his friends had vanished he didn't have much time. It was safe to assume they had already fallen. He wasn't sure he could bring them back without going in after them. He looked down at Sigh, at the disease and raw energy radiating off her body. She was already crawling back to her feet, blood dribbling down her chin from her nose and her lips, oozing from the stump of what had been her second left arm. Her pain was his. Her state made him _ache. _He wanted to protect her more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire existence_. _He was failing. He was _**failing**_. Useless, scum, failure of a reaper.

'Go after them,' her voice was strained but her hand was firm as it grasped his shoulder for support. 'He only wants,' she hacked up a glob of blood, spitting it to the ground. Kid winced, allowing an arm to loop about her shaking body. 'To kill me. You. And Maka and the others…are snacks. For later. I can…still see bits of their aura around him. They're not dead. Don't get lost. Grab them. And go. I'll take care of this.' Kid didn't take his eyes off where Djinn had landed, back tense as the rubble started stirring.

'Sigh, you're…' How do you tell someone they were going to die? That they were running towards their own death? That in order to do something great, to do something momentously _good _for the world they had to sacrifice themselves? And how desperately he didn't want her to?Is there nothing else? There must be another solution; he was DEATH damn it! No outdated prediction could frighten him away-

'I'm going to die,' she said it so…passively. Like it didn't even matter. 'I'm going to die. And you know what? I don't even care anymore, Kid. I just want to end him. As long as I can take him with me. My life has never mattered.' Kid glared at her, desperation in his eyes. 'Don't you say that! Don't you _ever _say that!' He grit his teeth, hands starting to shake. 'No one should go into battle looking to end themselves! This fight is not to die. This fight is to _live! _I don't care what that oracle said. I grew up with oracles. They're faulty, selfish, and purposefully vague. I can save you! I'm going to save you!' Sigh's body was slouching in exhaustion but there was a light in her eyes that Kid couldn't read. He wasn't sure if it was reassuring or terrifying.

'Don't tell me…Daughter, are you fucking this boy?' Djinn clicked his tongue. 'A _reaper? _Daddy doesn't approve. Not at all. I can only imagine the disgusting bastards the two of you would spawn. Fucking _**curs. **_ I guess I'll just have to kill him…_**gently?**_'' Djinn's magic shot forth. Kid's leapt out of the way, Sigh tucked into his arms.

'Kid,' she breathed into his ear. He smelled the blood on her breath. 'Go after them. Do your duty. Let me do mine.' His arm clenched around her, shooting Liz into the dim and the dust to try and keep Djinn at bay for just _one more moment please_.

'Sigh-' she pressed her lips to his briefly, shocking him to silence. His eyes widened and hers refused to close, watching each other during this strange intimacy. She was all gentle urgency, eyes woeful and longing as they looked into his.

'We could've been something amazing, right?' Kid was speechless, heart and soul one in their mournful howling. It couldn't end this way. He would _never _allow it to end like this.

'We still can be,' he insisted, staying close. 'We still _will _be.'

'Go,' she whispered as she pushed him away. She was careful not to assure him of the truth in his words because she could not bring herself to believe in something so beautiful. Kid wanted to scream. Wanted to strain and fight, to lose control and join the djinns before him in ripping the world apart because this awful thing called 'reality' was such a terrible place.

Another explosion of raw magic roared towards them. Kid dodged, slinging several shots to cover them as he ducked behind a crumbling wall. There he tapped his forehead to Sigh's, listening to the whimpering of her soul, the dangerous darkness that seemed to be tearing it apart. He ghosted his lips over the tip of her nose, between her eyes, longing to flee with her and to hide, just to be sure nothing else would harm her. This ungrateful world _be damned _because it seemed Hell-bent on ending him through this stupid woman.

He knew his duty. To his friends, to his race, to humans. And it was terrible and painful but he knew he had to follow through or he would be nothing that could be loved by whatever Sigh would become.

'You better be alive when I get back.'

'Just come back, you Ass. And we can take it from there.'

He left her behind their humble shelter, allowing her to catch her breath before another dangerous round with her father.

'This is going to make holidays awkward. Our in-law relationship is getting off on the worst foot possible.' Kid was fast on his feet, a saving grace when it came to battling one such as Djinn. The creature was raw power, on the level that Kid had seen in those like his father and Asura. He wasn't sure he could block if hit directly; his powers as a reaper were just too at odds with that of the Djinn. At a certain level of power he could negate and parry the blows as a master of order. But he wasn't there yet. He had touched it before, had held in in his hands when he grappled with Asura. But the cost of that power had been a life he wasn't ready to surrender yet. Now he almost regretted not holding onto it longer.

He was too aware of his situation to allow himself to actually believe the world when Djinn was felled by what he could hardly say was one of his more powerful attacks. An attack that Djinn could have easily dodged, blocked, or deflected. The urge to close his eyes became all-encompassing after this victory, although he could hardly say he was tired.

'Get ready,' he whispered to his weapons. They had been mercifully silent during his exchanges with Sigh.

'Let's get this over with,' there was only a little bit of shaking in Liz's voice.

Patty gave a little noise of consent.

He stood in his bedroom, Liz and Patty gone from his grasp. But why should he have them? He was home and there was no danger here. They had gone out on the town this evening, probably set to fall asleep at Maka's house like they would do upon occasion. And he was fine with that, tonight of all nights.

Candles burned from the top of his nightstand, his dresser, from atop decorative stands and sconces he couldn't remember putting in. He wore his black silk pajamas, having been prepared to sip a glass of red wine and read before bed, shocked by the almost ritualistic appearance of his bedroom.

'Okay, maybe I overdid it with the candles…and the teddy I bought online didn't fit…you know what, fuck it. Or me. Whichever you prefer.' Sigh exited his bathroom, and he couldn't say he was displeased with the fact that she was completely naked. His glass slipped from his fingers to smash into bits on the floor, earning a roll of the eyes from Sigh. 'Really, Death? I'm probably going to step on that later. I mean, one of us isn't wearing slippers. Or anything else.' She winked playfully, voice heady as she stretched out onto the bed like a lazy feline.

'It's been a while since we were home alone for the night. I thought my husband would like to take advantage?' Kid's jaw shut with a snap as he nodded dumbly. Sigh chuckled, rolling on the bed. Black petals that he had failed to notice before stuck to her body, the smell of her body oil hitting him in the face as she pulled up to sit back on her arms. This gave him a very open view of her body, chest to hips and back again.

One of his hands came forward of its own accord. A gold band shimmered beside his traditional skull ring, glinting up at him as his fingers brushed her collar bone. She tilted her head to the side as she surrendered to his touch. He heard a breathy laugh escape her throat as he brushed under her chin, hand on her hip to drag her closer. His mouth caressed her bottom lip, earning a little moan from the squirming woman beneath him. The smell of her surrounded him, warm and heady and sinfully delicious. Her hand wandered to his chest to rest over his heart, gasping against his mouth as his hand dared to travel over her bare breast.

_Why?_

And the little minx was already travelling lower with her hands, aiming to grab at the waistband of his pants, a mischievous smile forming on her mouth.

_Go in. But don't get lost._

His lips were so close to hers he could feel her breath brushing the top of his lip. 'Death?' she whimpered. 'What's wrong?' he opened his eyes, gazing into hers carefully.

_We could've been something amazing, right?_

Those amazing silver depths, so dangerously enticing and sweetly come-hither. But…but she just wasn't….

_You ASS._

'I can't.' He spoke almost in horror at himself. Because his body and soul burned with need. Was this what it was like then? To know the face of one's deepest longing?

'This isn't it!' He ripped himself away from the alarmed face of his supposed wife, calling to the air. 'You've gotten certain aspects of it right. But this isn't it. I thought you were supposed to grant my desires? I thought you were supposed to give me what I wanted most of all!'

'Death, you're scaring me.' Sigh watched him warily. Kid forced himself to ignore her, because she wasn't _her, _she wasn't _his. _

'WELL?' he roared stepping further away from the woman on the bed, broken glass digging into his foot deeply and blood oozing forth. The pain was real, very, very, _real _and it was information that he stored for later. 'You give me what you perceive to be my deepest wish, thinking I would be so _simple, _some carnal fool whose lusts ruled him? You DARE to insult me? To whore your own daughter?'

Laughter appeared behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see the imitation Sigh watching him, a smirk on her face. 'That's cruel,' she drawled. 'We're _married, _see?' She lifted her left hand to show him the thick diamond on her finger. '_Whore_, indeed. But if that's what gets you off…' the ring on her hand vanished, although he could still feel its partner on his own finger. 'There. Now _you're_ married, just not to me. Exciting, right? Don't you just love it?'

He snarled, body tensing. 'No, I don't.' She smiled sweetly. 'I should have known better. You Grim Reapers are so damn _tricky. _It's always hard to pin down your endgames. If you ever have any. Maybe you're just like the rest of us, floating around in space and time and wondering how hard you can push before card castles fall around your hands.'

'My goals are beyond you. You are nothing but a wart on the world that needs to be removed.' Sigh cocked her head to the side. 'You should be more respectful _boy. _I am your _**elder**_ and your _**superior**_. I've lived a millennia, I've seen things that a simpering child with an incomplete halo like yourself could never understand.'

'And roaches can live through nuclear explosions. Am I supposed to be impressed?'

Sigh's eyes flashed. 'I look forward to eating your soul. It's so full. So proud. So _**delectable**_.'

'I'm afraid you're going to die hungry.' Sigh barked a laugh. Although Kid was able to maintain an air of calm, it was very unsettling for Djinn to be talking to him in the form of a naked Sigh. 'Unlikely,' Djinn chuckled. 'As we speak, my sweet little girl bows before my superior might. She's had it. And once she's gone, no longer will there be anything to stop me.' The Sigh on the bed threw herself backwards, arms above her head, legs spread, mocking him.

'I may not be able to eat her in the end, but my victory is assured. I will take her head. I'll topple your precious little school. And all my trophies will be presented in your home, as your corpse burns forever in my dream world.' A lazily feminine finger hovered from the bed. 'There.' A mantle appeared where Djinn pointed, a frame of gilded gold blinking into existence. Blood drizzled to the floor. One of Sigh's eyes had rolled back into her skull, the other staring out dully above her bloody nose. The head seemed to have been ripped from the body, shreds of her neck still dangling loosely where the rest of her body should have been. 'I prefer to take it while she lives,' Djinn pondered aloud. 'It keeps the eyes from degenerating as fast.' Kid felt repulse and just fury boil in his gut, but had to maintain calm. As long as he could remember where he was, who this was talking to him. As long as he wasn't drawn in again.

'She's going to win.'

'Will she? To my knowledge, dying to obtain victory is no victory at all.'

Kid clenched his fists. 'The type of person she is…she does not fear me. She does not fear DEATH as she should. And if her single life could save the lives of others then that stupid woman will give it if only to know she did all she could.' It was the worse time for his chest to grow heavy, for despair to reassert itself in his soul. 'You have no idea who you've challenged or what she's capable of. You've made her life Hell these past few decades; you, her mother, meddlesome fools who've tortured her and beaten her until a lesser soul perhaps would've spiraled into madness. But she never did, did she?

She's too proud. No, more than that, she's too _powerful._ Too gracious and gentle, a soul meant to nurture and calm. And all that power and magic and she can still hardly find it in herself to harm others, still hopes not for revenge, but just for _life_. Just to be able to live comfortably with the simple things like rugby and ice cream. No, you don't stand a chance. And once she realizes her own potential, once you're nothing more than a stain on the floor, she'll want a shower and a nap and several days off just to curse and snarl at innocent people because that's _how she is_. You won't even be worth remembering, for her. No matter how much you hit her, how much pain she's in, she'll grit her teeth and fight you with her fingernails if she has to.' Djinn watched him with empty eyes. Kid suddenly felt a little too vulnerable, like he had unknowingly revealed too much.

'_**Love**_?' The wish granter snorted. 'Is that what this is? _**Love**__**? **_You_**love**___her, don't you?' His lips parted into a sneer. 'And here I thought you were worth speaking with. Turns out you're still just an ignorant _**child**_. Otherwise you would know that of everything love is, lasting it is not. What a pathetic flag for you to fly into battle, a pitiful shield you think you can sit behind. You're an immortal, are you not? And a grim reaper all the same? You know how things _fade. _They rust, the rot, they fall to pieces and all victims of your touch, if I may accuse.You think it's any different for this "love"? Something I have easily hand-crafted at the wishes of my would-be masters and hosts at the twist of a wrist and the whisper of a wish? You make an old man _**laugh**__**.**_

If you seek to destroy me, do not hide behind something so weak. Destroy me because it would be your duty, you stupid boy_._' Djinn shook his head as though dealing with a particularly difficult student. 'That's why her destiny holds, you realize. Her mother tried to stop it for _love, _but she holds because of _love_. The vengeance that burns within her is for love. For her mother, for her Grandmother, for her supposed friends. _**Fallible**_ and _**disgusting**_. Kill me for anything else –silver, hatred, lust- anything but love.' The ground fell out from beneath Kid's feet and he was suspended in darkness not unlike the suspicious magic of the Great Old Power in Noah's book.

'Tell me, Little Death,' Djinn/Sigh had vanished, but Djinn's voice echoed in the abyss. 'Are you familiar with one Fredrick Kreuger III?' Kid narrowed his eyes. "Freddie Krouger was a kishin egg reaped in 1984. He possessed the strange ability to kill and harvest souls from within dreams.'

'Yessss,' Djinn hissed almost fondly. 'One of my favorite hosts. Didn't care what I did to his body as long as I granted him the power to feed his bloodlust. Bastard abandoned me on a solo venture. See where that got him…' Djinn chuckled. 'That dream-hoping is something he took from me, of course. For what is a wish but a dream come true? You die in a dream…' He was right in Kid's ear and the young reaper turned quickly fist lashing out into the black. He was alone. Djinn laughed. 'You die for _**real**__._'

His eyes opened slowly, squinting at the sun prying into his vision. A soft, feminine giggle at his side had him flexing his hand, gently brushing her arm.

'Welcome back to the world of the living,' she hummed, content to remain lying against his shoulder. 'Geez, Theo, when I said that it would be relaxing out here I didn't think you'd take it to a whole other level and fall asleep on me.'

Too comfortable to feed into her sarcasm, Theo rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. The strawberry field was beautiful and the wind carried a sweetly tart smell that spoke of summertime. He breathed deep, arms tightening around his love, as he gazed up at the wispy clouds in the sky. Sam hummed through her nose, once again gaining his attention.

'That one looks like a pirate ship.' Theo narrowed his eyes, nose scrunched as he tried to see it. 'No,' he finally lamented. 'Not really.' She chuckled in her quiet way as she grabbed his hand to trace the sky. 'There. The mast, the hull, the anchor…pirate ship.' She always had been more imaginative then he was, and even though she was trying her best to show him what she meant Theo was still at a loss. 'How do you know it's a pirate ship? What about just a regular ship?' He could sense her eye roll as she once again lay on his shoulder. 'I'm sure there's a jolly-rodger on it. Probably hidden so the royal navy doesn't know who they are…until it's too late, of course.'

'Of course.' The conversation lulled. A small plane blew past, high in the air.

'We have to talk to your father.' He closed his eyes, edges of his mouth turning down. 'I don't see why. My life is none of his business…and he really doesn't care what I do, so long as I don't make a fool of the "family name".' Theo sighed. 'I'm entirely self-sufficient. If I wasn't his only child I doubt he'd even bother. What I wouldn't give for an older brother…' Sam didn't grant him the usual pity smile for his commentary. Instead, she rolled her body to straddle his waist. His hands automatically went to her hips, squeezing intimately. A ladybug was crawling on her arm, perhaps confusing her sweet smelling flesh for a flower. He had heard somewhere the insect was good luck.

'I'm serious. It would be nice to have his blessing-'

'One that he'll never give-'

'I mean, if I could convince Mom we can convince your dad. I just have to point out how beautiful bi-racial babies are.' Theo laughed. 'Oh? And how did that go with your mom?'

'_Awesomely_, ye of little faith. I had evidence to go with it. Tiger Woods, Hallie Berry, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, Tia and Tamara Mowry…need I go on?' Theo ran his fingers through his chestnut brown hair as he sat up, hazel eyes dancing in amusement. Sam seemed so serious with her list, a pout on her full plum lips, black eyes shimmering in determination. Even the kinky twists on her head seemed to fall more solemnly then usual as they lay tossed over one shoulder, thick brown fingers toying with the ends in a nervous habit. 'No, no. I'm convinced,' he said slowly. 'Of course my father won't be that easy. He didn't snipe the CEO position of Sync Corp. because of his concern for beauty.'

'…I thought he liked babies…'

'We don't have babies…do we?' Fear shadowed Theo's face, somehow lessened by the uncertain excitement in his eyes as he glanced from Sam's flat stomach back to her face. Her only response was to smile mysteriously as she jumped up to scamper away. Theo leapt to his feet. 'Sam? We don't have a baby! Right? Come on!' Her smile became a smirk, eyes mischievous. He caught her easily, slinging his arm around her waist to spin her to face him. 'You're _awful, _you know?' he whispered onto her face playfully. 'Lord knows why I want you so bad…'

'You do want me, don't you?'

He chuckled. 'Of course, I-' He choked. It was so sudden at first he thought he had simply breathed wrong, with one pipe cinching up on him because of the hitch in the flow of oxygen. But then he noticed the steady dampening of his shirt, the spasms of his abdominal muscles. One of her hands had dipped into his back pocket to keep him close to her, her breasts pressed to his chest. She wasn't wearing a bra. Where was her other hand?

'So this is it then? I'm not really that surprised. You made it sound like I was way off that first time but is this really that different? A change in scenery, change in species, and you're _**putty**_.' Theo gurgled, blood dripping down his chin as he put his arms on Sam's shoulders to force them apart. There was a thick squelching noise as her arm was pull from his torso but the pain wasn't present any longer. Just a strange, warm sensation as he suddenly found it hard to focus.

_Do not bleed to death, do not bleed to death, do not bleed to death._

'This is just almost too delicious. Does your father know of your secret desire to be human? Or is it something dirty you wish for behind closed doors?' Sam tapped her chin with a bloody finger. 'Underlying guilt over Mommy's death, perhaps?' Theo…no, _Death the Kid _clasped his hand over the hole in his torso, fighting off unconsciousness. He wasn't _human _this didn't have to be the end of him if he could just force his body to remember…

'It's funny. The only true evil in this is your own _**wish**_, you know. It's weakened you. There's no way a _**human body**_ can survive such a blow.' Sam kneeled beside him, hand brushing the side of his face. 'And that's what you are now. Don't fight it; you've lived human, in this world. An entire life of twenty-four years. And I'm even letting you _die_ human. There's something _**poetic**_ in it.' The strawberries were decaying, starting from beneath his bent knees and spreading throughout the field. Rotten leaves spiraled to the ground, moldy berries sinking into the soil, mocking his powers as death as he fell to mortality.

'I almost pity you, Little Reaper,' Sam sighed. Kid's eyes were beginning to roll back into his skull as she kneeled over him, rolling him onto his back with amusement in her eyes. It was a dream. It was just a _dream_, damn it. So why was his body so heavy? He felt himself beginning to sink into the ground, the sky above turning to the burnt red of volcanic rock, ashes raining like snow. The ground just above his head shook, sprouting a granite tombstone.

_Theodore Grimshaw II._

It was just a dream, a dream, a dream. He was dying in a _dream_.

'Normally I play with my _**food**_ a little longer. But you're just too dangerous, you know. After a year or two of playing with human-Rehema you'd probably grow _**bored**_. Most men would. And then I'd have to cook up a whole new world for you. And then one after that, and that, and that. Worlds aren't easy, you know, especially when you're not entirely certain what they need. Be a waste of magic on my part. So-' Kid's hand shot forward, latching onto the slim column of Sam's neck. He sent all of him remaining strength to his fingers as he sought the juicy snap of her spine.

'Shut. Up.' His whispered gurgle was hardly intimidating, but his eyes were all fire. 'I'll be…damned…if the last thing…I see…is you.' To his pleasant surprise, his grasp on Sam's throat actually seemed to be affecting her. Her hands flew to his fingers, clawing at his flesh as she choked and her eyes grew desperate. His vision was so fuzzy she was just a blocky blur. But he would never let go. _Never. _If he was going to die, this bastard was going with him.

'_**W-what**_?' Pink foam oozed from Sam's mouth, Djinn's voice arising from the air itself. '_**You're….hurting me? Nothing can hurt me here! This is my world! Everything is MIN**__E!_'

Cracks appeared in the sky, blue light spearing through like the wrath of heaven. The rotting strawberries of the field had left behind seeds, bits of life that sprouted into incandescent plants that bore more fruit. Larger berries, glowing from within. Sam squirmed under his grasp, flakes of silver and blue falling from her skin like dandruff as she began to disappear.

Suddenly, Kid could breathe again.

'_**NOOOOOOOO**_!' The world jerked. And Kid fell back into himself.

He gasped, nauseous as the streets of Las Vegas reformed around him. He lay on his stomach, Liz and Patty on either side of him in their human forms. He pushed to his hands, blinking as though gazing into a bright light. Djinn was nowhere to be seen, the glowing foliage of Sigh's pure magic surrounding him on all sides. White moss was beneath his fingers, vines strung from building to building as okoumè, mahogany, and oil palm trees grew from the sidewalk. Maka was pulling herself up from where she had been lying on top of Soul, Black Star and Tsubaki unconscious near what appeared to be a plant a rubber tree.

_Eden._

Kid sifted through the plants and the wreckage to try and find Sigh, difficult because of the mana interference from the plants and his own fatigue. His torso still ached in memory of his impalement, the bottom of his right foot sore from glass that was no longer there, and his soul feeling scorched at the edges. Was it all just a dream? Yes and no, he supposed. And the ambiguity was disgusting. He wrinkled his nose, clenching his hands on the ground. He had come so close to dying…such failure was the reason he was unworthy to be called Lord Death. How could he protect the world if he couldn't even-

_Sigh._

Clumps of black and red flesh were littered about her, a tattooed arm slowly being devoured by the plants of the rainforest around them, a leg disintegrating harmlessly into the air. She was kneeling on the spot where he assumed she had fallen, face raised like she was praying before an altar. Her eyes were dangerously empty as they stared at the sky, lashes clumped with soot. Her hair was unbound and ethereal against her skull, mouth agape with her lips cracked and dry. Trails of blood stained her face beside tracks of tears that reflected the aura of her plants like the light of the bloody moon. The tips of her fingers were steaming with foul, miasmic magic, the flesh on her hands mottled with sores and boils.

Kid couldn't get to her fast enough.

Somewhere, in the distance, he heard Liz and Patty calling him, the panicked voice of Maka, and the heavy silence of Soul. But all he could see was Sigh, all her could feel was her cold against him as his eyes raked her body over and over, searching for her soul, for her breath, for something, anything…

He knew, he knew, he was DEATH and he knew…

Perhaps from the start, perhaps that was why he loved her, this woman that death had followed since birth. He sensed her doom and it attracted him in ways hardly to be explained simply...

But that can't be _right _because that wasn't _fair. _It was too late for her to be taken from him. His soul _needed_ her now, reaching out into the silence again and again, seeking confirmation, seeking the presence of hers, seizing in panic when all remained abyssal. He opened his mouth, feeling as though his spirit no longer trusted his eyes, and was crawling up his throat to seek confirmation. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to scream. Everything…the world was suddenly too dark for him to stand. Maybe if she heard his heartbeat she would remember how to use her own? He held her tight, so _tightly _that perhaps the life would be squeezed back into her. He heard hyperventilating, realized it was the noise of his own horror, and snapped his teeth shut.

'_Kid. Kid. We're so sorry, Kid.'_

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

He was DEATH and he knew…and he…he…he knew..."

…

…

…

The students in the audience jerked to attention at this pause. The narrator brought a trembling hand to her face, dotting at the sweat that was beading on her skin. Her shaking was ridiculous now, like she was cold on this hot desert day, and her eyes had grown blurry. The audience had been so enraptured by her story they hadn't noticed her steep drop in health until this point. Until it was all she could do to stay upright. Now they saw. They saw just enough to gasp and scream as she swayed and fell to the side, dust and sand settling in her hair.


End file.
